


Sexy Santa

by Hot_elf



Series: Dragon Age - series 9 (modern AU - Sexy Santa) [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:56:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hot_elf/pseuds/Hot_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU in which the DA crew have a themed Christmas party that leads to all kinds of shenanigans.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShebasDawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShebasDawn/gifts).



**Sexy Santa**

"Wow. Some party." The tall, bearded man chuckled softly. "Definitely not something you see every day."

"Yeah." Alistair awkwardly cleared his throat. "Very… creative."

"That's one way of putting it." The man's dark eyes were twinkling merrily. "Duncan Grey, medical consultant," he introduced himself, extending his hand to shake Alistair's.

"Alistair Theirin. I'm the IT technician. You know, the guy who makes sure the computers run smoothly and all that." Alistair was sure he could see the guy's eyes glazing over with boredom. Theoretically, he knew that everyone here at W.O.D. depended on his skills to be able to do their work, but he still felt like a useless clod compared to most of his colleagues.

W.O.D., short for Ward Off Disease, was an up-and-coming internet company providing an online database for the prevention and diagnosis of infectious diseases. Despite this grim premise, most of the staff were young and enjoyed life to the fullest. _Work hard, play harder_ —wasn't that what people said about start-ups? This party was a case in point.

Alistair was still struggling to come up with an interesting conversation topic when Isabela, their customer relationships manager, made her way over to them with a bright smile on her face.

"Duncan! So glad you could make it." She embraced their guest heartily, breathing a kiss on his bearded cheek. "Love your costume."

"Isabela. You look ravishing." Duncan's gaze was heated enough to attest to the sincerity of his compliment.

Alistair couldn't help but agree, even though he wasn't quite sure where to look. Isabela's outfit showed a _lot_ of her smooth, brown skin. He risked another peek and blushed as the realization sank in. If he wasn't very much mistaken, Isabela had simply repurposed a bunny costume, complete with fluffy tail, by replacing the ears with a set of reindeer antlers.

"Isn't this fun?" She was practically purring, her eyes firmly fixed on Duncan's broad chest. " _Sexy Santa_. I just love themed parties, and your costume is perfect. Tell me, was it _hard_ to find a suitable one?"

Duncan grinned, clearly flattered by her attention. “Not at all. With a little creativity…” He winked at Alistair, who grinned back weakly.

He had to admit the man had made the best of the evening's motto. It helped that he was in good shape for his age. Not everyone would have been able to pull off skin tight red leather pants and a dyed beard, not to mention a fur-trimmed tunic with a deep, plunging neckline.

Instinctively, Alistair gathered his red coat more tightly around his body. “Whose idea was this anyway? I mean, last year we just went out for a beer.”

“Oh, it was Zevran who suggested it. The new guy from Marketing. Apparently that's the way they celebrate where he comes from.” Chatting on merrily, Isabela dragged Duncan off in the direction of the bar.

Alistair took a shaky breath, sneaking a glance at the man in question. Zevran was perched on the armrest of Leliana's chair, whispering something into her ear that made her throw her head back and laugh raucously. _He_  was definitely dressed for the occasion. His costume consisted of tight red hot pants, red suspenders, red boots, and a Santa hat. Nothing else. For some reason he'd added elf ears to the costume as well, and oddly enough, they suited him, made him look even more exotic, more... Alistair swallowed hard. Zevran was so incredibly hot, all golden skin and taut muscle, with the intricate pattern of his tattoos just begging to be explored further. A pity that he seemed only interested in the girls.

 

 

 

Just then, Zevran raised his head and looked straight at him, and Alistair blushed violently. Zevran smiled and raised his punch glass in a mute salute, then turned back to Leliana. She winked at Alistair, making a shrugging motion with her shoulders. His blush deepened as her meaning sank in. She wanted him to take off the coat. But he wasn't ready to do so. Not yet. Probably not ever. The teachings of the nuns at his boarding school weren't quite so easy to shake off.

Leliana had helped him pick his costume, red satin leggings, and a red muscle shirt that left his arms and shoulders and most of his chest bare. "Really, Alistair, with a body like yours, you have no reason to be shy." He snorted at the memory. As if anyone needed a reason. He would never have agreed to the outfit if it hadn't been for the floor-length cloak that went with it. But it was hot in the room, with so many people crowded into the small space, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could bear the heavy velvet.

He distracted himself by looking around some more, grimacing when he spotted Oghren, one of the web developers. While it might be argued, at a stretch, that lederhosen made for a good Santa costume, Alistair was pretty sure that Oghren's naked round belly didn't qualify as "sexy". Next to Oghren, his colleague Sten had all but refused to dress up, a pair of antlers on his wide forehead his only concession to the motto.

Now, Leliana, on the other hand… She wasn't his type, but she looked _classy_ in her long, slinky red satin dress with the slit up to her thighs. And the reindeer applications were a nice touch. Shale had picked a good look, too, a glittery number that hugged her ample curves.

"Alistair." A cool voice tore him out of his musings. "Where did you get that drink of yours?"

When he turned, he nearly choked on his drink. He hadn't expected Morrigan to show up at all. The cool brunette from accounting had raised a disapproving eyebrow when she had first seen the party posters, and had muttered something about _childish games_. But, here she was, in a short burgundy skirt and a flimsy top, with two stripes of fabric just barely covering her- Again, Alistair swallowed. The amount of bare skin on display tonight was enough to make anyone dizzy.

"The bar is over there," he managed to answer, wondering if he dared compliment her. But the pithy look she gave him shut him up immediately.

Morrigan wandered off, and Alistair found a quiet corner near the window, where it was a little cooler. All around him, people were chatting animatedly, their faces bright and happy. Maybe he should have followed Wynne's example and stayed at home. He shifted uncomfortably, cursing his shyness. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get past it. He was fine as long as he had to deal with one or two people at a time, people he knew well, people who respected his strengths.

But this wasn't his kind of event, and he fervently wished the evening was already over. Making small talk, showing off, and flirting just didn't appeal to him at all. He was perfectly happy to leave that kind of entertainment to others. Like Isabela who had settled on Duncan's lap now, wrapping herself around him, whispering in his ear while his hand rested on her thigh, stroking it in lazy circles. Or Shale who was rocking the dance floor, surprisingly graceful considering her size. Or Zevran… Alistair craned his neck to find him when a warm, silky voice next to his ear made him jump.

"That cloak must be stifling, _querido_. Why don't you take it off?" Zevran's face was hard to read. Was that genuine concern or mockery? Or something more suggestive? Alistair wasn't sure.

"Nah, I'm good." He knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn't bring himself to relax. The mere thought of everyone staring at him-

"Are you sure? You look very hot to me." This time, there was no mistaking the innuendo. Or the intensity of Zevran's gaze as his amber eyes slowly roved over Alistair's face, then further downward. "Come on. I'm sure you've got nothing to hide."

 _Oh, curse it!_ Taking a deep breath, Alistair straightened himself up to his full height, dropping the coat to the floor. Zevran whistled softly, and he immediately felt self-conscious again, reaching instinctively for the coat.

But Zevran stopped him with a hand around his wrist. "Don't." The sharpness of his tone was tempered by his radiant smile. "Please don't. You look magnificent."

Alistair gulped nervously. From across the room, Leliana was smiling cheerily at him. But, it was the look in Zevran's eyes that made him stand straighter, made him roll his shoulders to loosen the tense muscles. And it was the tiny hitch in the other man’s breath that gave him the courage to look up with a smile.

"Gorgeous." Zevran's voice was a mere whisper. "Such a shame to hide all this, no?"

Zevran appeared to be waiting for a reply, his face quiet and expectant. His hand was still on Alistair's wrist, his grip surprisingly firm, and it made him go weak at the knees. They were so soft, those long, graceful fingers, and at the same time Alistair could feel the strength in them, and he couldn't help but imagine-

"Well, I won't bother you any longer." With a sigh, Zevran turned to go, and Alistair nearly panicked. He knew with sudden clarity that he didn't want to waste this chance, tiny as it might be.

"Wait." His voice sounded rough and hoarse, but he was so glad to have forced out the word that he didn't care. "Please… don't go. You're not bothering me. At all."

When Zevran turned back slowly, favouring him with another dazzling smile, his heart beat so fast he was sure everyone could hear it. Suddenly, the prospect of spending the evening at this party had become a lot more appealing.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“And what do you do in your free time, _querido_?” Zevran smiled encouragingly at Alistair.

He was inordinately pleased with how things were going so far. Ever since his first day at W.O.D., when Alistair had shown up on his doorstep to set up his computer, Zevran had had an eye on the gorgeous young man. True, Alistair had stammered and blushed at first, but as soon as he'd got down to work, he'd exuded an air of quiet competence that had been incredibly attractive. Not to mention that having _that_ ass sticking out from under the desk as he’d sorted out the wiring had been quite the treat!

“Oh, nothing special, you know.” Alistair was smiling, clearly flattered that Zevran was taking an interest in him. “Reading technical stuff, mostly, and working out.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Zevran didn't bother to hide the admiration in his eyes as he let his gaze travel down to Alistair's chiseled pecs.

Alistair bit his lip nervously, but at the same time Zevran heard him inhale sharply. Yes, things were definitely going well. He had already talked Alistair out of that horrible coat and lured him into a quiet corner. They had mostly talked about work at first, but now it was time to get a little more personal.

“Any other _hobbies_?” Zevran winked suggestively, licking his lips.

“Well, I play chess." Alistair gave him a hopeful look, but Zevran had a hard time hiding his eye roll. His attempt at innuendo had gone right over Alistair’s head. _Too subtle, perhaps?_

“And I sing. In a choir, I mean. Not, you know, solo.” No, Alistair was _nervous_ , Zevran realized, afraid to say something wrong. Not obtuse, just… preoccupied with his own fears and worries.

“I bet you have a lovely voice.” He did his best to sound warm and accepting. “Me, I prefer to dance.”

“What, you mean, like that?” Alistair tensed up visibly, throwing a nervous glance at the dance floor. “I don't think I would-“

“No, not like that.” Zevran let his hips undulate just the tiniest bit, and yes, there it was again. Another sharp inhale, and Alistair’s gaze dropped to his lap, his blush spreading down his neck. _Adorable. But how much more explicit do I have to get?_

He almost sighed in exasperation, but just as he was ready to give up, Alistair surprised him by raising his head and looking him firmly in the eye. “I… I think I would like to see you dance. Some day. Soon.”

“Would you, now?” Zevran practically purred the words. “That's good to know. But, I think…” He glanced around the room, trying to gauge how much longer the party would go on. It was still in full swing, as far as he could tell, with people chatting animatedly, their rosy cheeks betraying the influence of the excellent wine. “Maybe we should get some fresh air, no?” Zevran inclined his head in the direction of the door. “What do you say?”

Without waiting for Alistair's reply, he got to his feet. “Better bring the coat,” he tossed back over his shoulder. “I bet it's cold outside.”

He heard Alistair awkwardly clear his throat close behind him. “What about you?”

Fortunately, there was no need to hide his grin, since he was facing away from Alistair. “Well, I was kind of hoping you'd share the warmth.”

This time, the gasp was close to being an actual moan.

It _was_ chilly outside in the corridors, not icy cold, but cool enough that Zevran was really glad when they turned a corner and he could snuggle under the big, plushy cloak with Alistair. Though, if he was quite honest, he would have pretended to be shivering anyway, just to get close to that magnificent body. Alistair felt wonderful, his torso firm and muscular, the exposed skin on his chest warm and smooth. And yes, there was a definite twitch down there when Zevran moulded his body against him.

Carefully, he went up on his toes and brushed his lips against Alistair's. Just a feather light touch, nothing more, but he responded with a full body shudder. It was intoxicating, and Zevran couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to see him lose control completely. Again, his lips found Alistair’s, adding more pressure, opening just the tiniest bit to test the waters, and Alistair moaned again, his big hands settling on Zevran's hips, pulling him closer in a gesture that had to be purely instinctual.

Zevran couldn't hold back any longer. With a low groan of his own, he took possession of that lovely mouth, deepening the kiss greedily, while his hands roamed all over Alistair's chest and stomach. They both emerged from the kiss gasping for breath, trembling all over, and dove straight back in. Another kiss, then another, more touching, more pressure, more heat – Zevran only knew he wanted _more_.

His hand wandered lower until his fingers were grazing the impressive bulge in Alistair's leggings, tracing the shape of him through the thin fabric.

Alistair whined softly into his mouth. “Zevran, no, I-“

He pulled back his hand immediately, though he couldn't bring himself to let go of Alistair completely. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I just-“ Alistair was panting just as hard as he was. “I… I want, but not… You know, not too fast… I don't usually-“

“Shhhh.” Zevran silenced him with another kiss, then pulled back a little to look into his eyes. “You set the pace. You tell me what's fine with you, yes?”

Again, he cupped Alistair through his pants, almost moaning aloud when he felt the thick, hard length of him. “Is this okay?”

Alistair's eyes were half closed, but he nodded vehemently. “Yes. Please.”

Zevran actually had to stop for a moment to gather the remnants of his control. _So delicious, so hot, I just want to-_ Taking two deep breaths, he forced himself to keep his touch light as he slipped his fingers under the elastic waistband of the leggings, pulling them down just far enough that he could wrap his hand around Alistair's hot, taut flesh and catch a glimpse of the tip of his cock, flushed and weeping.

“Okay?” His voice threatened to fail him as he began to move his hand.

Alistair just nodded, his eyes fully closed now as he abandoned himself completely to Zevran's touch, fine pearls of sweat appearing on his forehead. He looked incredibly beautiful like this, and it was tempting just to stare at him, but Zevran had to focus on what he was doing. The angle was far from ideal, but he managed to keep his strokes long and even until Alistair himself broke the rhythm and began to thrust into his hand. He was getting close, shaking all over, his whole body tautening, and Zevran belatedly realized that this was going to be terribly messy. Unless-

With a quick, graceful movement, he dropped to his knees, his mouth closing around that perfect cock as far as he could reach. He sucked once, hard. Alistair's head dropped back against the wall with an audible thud, his hands squeezing Zevran's shoulders like vises as he came, and kept coming, pouring himself into Zevran's willing mouth, the muscles in his stomach rippling convulsively.

Zevran eagerly swallowed it all, then got to his feet to support a swaying Alistair who seemed too dazed to remember how to stand.

“Zevran, damn it!” His voice was hoarse and shaky. “What-“

“You are delicious, _querido_ , as I knew you'd be.” Zevran chuckled softly, offering his lips for another kiss, long and slow this time.

When they parted, Alistair glanced guiltily downwards. “What about you?”

Zevran held his breath. It was tempting to let Alistair return the favour, but there had been a hint of hesitation in his voice when he’d offered, and he didn't want that. He wanted Alistair to be just as hungry for it as he had been himself. Besides, the noise of the party was beginning to die down. Soon enough, people would start leaving the venue, and one of them might well stumble over the two of them, embarrassing Alistair. _No. Better to wait a little, and raise expectations a little higher._

He firmly shook his head. “Next time, perhaps.”

“But you-“ Alistair paused, apparently unsure how to phrase the problem delicately.

_I am so hard I can barely walk straight, true._ Zevran made a face, but he was determined. “I'll be fine in a minute. Besides…” He rose up on his toes again to whisper in Alistair's ears. “It will make dreaming of you tonight all the sweeter.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Duncan couldn't recall the last time anything had felt as good.

Ever since Isabela had curled up on his lap, more than two hours ago, he'd been half hard, dizzy with desire, his mind reeling with all the things he wanted to do to her. Her skin was so soft, so warm, so perfectly smooth and silky, and he couldn't keep his hands off her, sneaking touches whenever no one was looking. Maybe it was the mulled wine that was making him behave like a horny teenager? But no, on second thought, it was her. Just her.

He'd always thought she was beautiful, with her radiant smile and curvy body, tempting even in the sober suits she wore for work. But tonight… The tight corset of the bunny costume pushed her luscious breasts up and together, making her cleavage look deep enough to drown in. And that was exactly what he wanted: to bury his face between her breasts, breathe in her musky scent, lose himself in her warmth. Her long, long legs were deliciously clad in black stockings, and he wanted them wrapped around his waist, wanted to feel the strength in her thighs, wanted to dig his fingers deep into the soft flesh of her beautifully rounded-

“The party's almost over.” Her deep, husky voice interrupted his thoughts. “Pity. I hope Mrs Woolsey booked a nice room for you.”

He grinned. “Oh, yes. At the Palace Hotel, just around the corner. And it's more than just nice.” When she raised a questioning eyebrow, he elaborated. “Someone mixed up the reservations, and all the rooms were taken, so they gave me the penthouse suite instead. Complete with king size bed and whirlpool.”

Isabela whistled softly through her teeth. “King size bed, eh?”

“Mmhmmm.” _Nice and big, with plenty of room for both of us and whatever we fancy doing there._ He swallowed involuntarily. Gods, he _wanted_ her in his bed, wanted to take her there, on the silken sheets, watch her writhe in his arms, make her scream and beg.

He was still mulling over how he could persuade her to join him there when she whispered softly in his ear. “Think we could be there in five minutes?” She rolled her hips against him in a blatant invitation, and he very nearly moaned aloud. “Because I don't think I can wait any longer to have you inside me.”

Her words hit him straight in the guts, well, actually a few inches lower. Closing his eyes, he bit his lower lip hard. “Damn it, Isabela, if you go on like this, I won't be able to walk there, no matter how close it is.”

Her soft, throaty chuckle did nothing to improve matters, but she did stop moving, giving him a chance to recover a little. “Tell you what - I'll have another drink. Join me at the bar as soon as you’re ready to leave.” He watched her go, admiring the lazy sway of her full hips as she crossed the room. _Gorgeous_.

In the end, they just about made it into the hotel elevator before he had her pressed against the wall, kissing her hard, grinding against her with almost desperate greed.

She laughed again, but she was breathless and flushed, just as hungry for it as he was. “Damn it, Duncan, get us up to your room, now. I need to get my hands on you.”

He groaned roughly, pulling her closer, biting down hard on her shoulder, exposed where her short trench coat had slid down. “My sentiments exactly. Why can't this damn thing go faster?”

He was sincerely grateful that they were headed for the suite, with the elevator door opening right in the middle of it. It would have been damn embarrassing to encounter anyone in the corridor, considering the state they were in. Isabela’s hair was disheveled and her lips swollen and red from his kisses, and he was straining so hard against his tight pants that there was no way anyone could have missed it.

When they stumbled out in the open, he had to let go of her body, and there was a brief moment of awkwardness as they shrugged off their coats. Duncan's mind was buzzing with questions. Should he kiss her again? Should he take off his clothes first? But Isabela just laughed, throwing back her head in a gesture of pure abandonment as she turned and walked over to the bedroom. He followed her as if pulled by strings, unable to take his eyes off her.

“I see you didn't exaggerate.” Her voice had dropped to that deep purr again as she turned to face him, gracefully sinking down on the edge of the huge bed, spreading her legs invitingly.

Duncan felt another groan rise to his throat. Without further hesitation, he dropped to his knees right before her, placing his hands on her thighs. His lips found hers again and he drank in her taste and her scent, his whole body thrumming with need. He fumbled impatiently with the fastenings of her corset until she pushed his fingers aside and undid them herself, quickly and efficiently. The moment her breasts sprang free of their confines, he had his hands on them, gathering that marvelous bounty in both palms, whining with pleasure when her large brown nipples tightened under his touch.

She pulled him closer, right against her hot core, and if he had been younger, less experienced, he'd have come right there and then. He breathed in sharply, thanking his lucky stars for the better control that came with age. He'd worried about the age difference, actually, feared she'd reject him because of it, and it was comforting to know that he had an advantage over younger lovers in this.

Still, there was no time for such considerations, not with the way her nimble fingers were dancing up the inseam of his trousers, tugging at the waistband, eager to feel him. He did his best to help, hissing sharply when her hands found his heated flesh, touching him with assurance.

“Ooooh, that's _nice_.” She sank back onto the bed, dragging him with her so he came to lie on top of her, her hips moving up into his touch.

Even through her panties he could feel how eager she was, and when he pushed the fabric aside, he nearly lost it. She was soaking wet, so hot and slick that he couldn't resist pushing a finger inside her.

Isabela whined, clenching hard around him. “Damn it, Duncan, stop teasing me!” Her eyes were almost feverish as she took hold of him again, guiding him where she wanted him. “I want a lot more than just your finger.”

He laughed, but he held back, though it was a struggle. “Wait. What about-“

“Yeah, I guess we should.” With a resigned sigh and an exaggerated eye roll, she reached for her bag, rummaging around in it for a moment until she produced several foil wrappers neatly printed with the W.O.D. logo. “Come here.”

He had to close his eyes while she rolled on the condom for him. Watching her would have overtaxed even his control. She made a soft, appreciative noise as she ran her fingers down the length of him, and it made him straighten up with instinctive pride. No matter how this played out, he was determined that she wouldn't regret this night.

Spreading her wide, he ran the tip of his cock teasingly along her opening, smiling when she bucked up impatiently, then thrusting smoothly deep inside her. Isabela cried out, wrapping her legs around his waist and drawing him in even deeper. The expression on her beautiful face showed nothing but sheer, unadulterated bliss, and it spurned him on, made him fall into a natural, instinctive rhythm.

She moved with him, her hips following his movements, rolling and sinuous. It was so damn perfect, her heat surrounding him, her perfect breasts just inches from his face, her heels digging deep into his back. Just when he thought it couldn't get any better, she pushed him back, rolling over with him and straddling him. And then she rode him hard, working herself against him, taking her pleasure from him without shame and hesitation, and it was the single most arousing thing he'd ever seen.

He just about managed to hang on until she came, gasping and shuddering on top of him, her face glowing with ecstasy. When he let go, his orgasm tore through him like a firestorm, red-hot and so intense it bordered on pain, and he almost blacked out with the sheer force of it.

It took him a moment to get his bearings afterwards. Isabela was looking at him with an almost indulgent expression. “Okay?” Her voice still sent shivers down his spine.

“A lot more than just okay.” He placed a quick, hard kiss on her lips. “You're amazing.”

A wide smile spread across her face. “You're not so bad yourself. Now, you mentioned a whirlpool…”

 


	4. Chapter 4

By the time Alistair unlocked the door to his apartment, some of the magic had worn off, but his skin was still tingling, and when he caught sight of himself in the hallway mirror, there was a bright, goofy smile on his face. He hadn't felt so excited in years. Or so scared.

Zevran and he had parted with another long, lingering kiss, right outside the door.

“See you on Monday, _querido_. I can't wait.” There had been a mischievous twinkle in Zevran's eyes as he had disappeared out into the dark, chilly night, his provocative costume well hidden under a pair of ski pants and a warm winter coat.

Alistair had stayed a while longer, but he remembered little of what had been going on at the party. Well, there had been a potentially embarrassing incident, when a very drunk Oghren had made an attempt at pole dancing on a table in the middle of the room. But, thankfully Sten had intervened and dragged him off before things had happened that couldn't be unseen. After that, the room had grown considerably more quiet. Leliana had been half asleep, with her head in Aedan’s lap, while Morrigan had been caught up in an earnest discussion with Mr Garevel, their tax advisor. Duncan had been one of the last to leave, with Isabela on his arm, whispering in his ear. Alistair had little doubt as to how _their_ evening had ended.

Taking off his coat and hat, Alistair made for the bathroom, examining his apartment with a critical eye as he walked through the rooms. For the first time since he'd moved in here, he was actually considering what it would be like to bring someone home with him. What would they think, what would _Zevran_ think of his home? Secretly, he feared it would seem boring and bland, functional and practical, but not particularly appealing. _Just like myself._ And yet... Zevran had said he was hot, hadn't he?

Alistair shook his head in disbelief as he took in his surroundings. The walls were bare, and his furniture was simple to the point of asceticism, just plain wood, hardly any knickknacks or decorations. The few mementoes he had of his parents - his mother’s brooch and his father’s monogrammed handkerchief – were safely stowed away in a box in his wardrobe. He hardly ever looked at them, and when he did, it was with an odd mixture of sadness and curiosity. His father’s face was nothing but a vague memory, and he only knew his mother from old, faded pictures. He'd grown up at his uncle’s place and had been sent off to boarding school at the age of ten. It had been a tough time for him, cold and dark and lonely.

Shaking off the old memories - why did they always have to come back to haunt him at Christmas? – Alistair began taking off his costume with a quick sideways glance into the mirror. Dear God, but those pants were _tight_! He hadn't quite realized how closely they were clinging to his ass and thighs, or how thin the fabric was. He'd better get used to the thought that all his colleagues were familiar with his… assets now. _Well, maybe they will see you in a different light from now on,_ a small traitorous voice whispered in his head. _Yeah, right._ He snorted. _As if._

He stepped under the shower and sighed with pleasure as the warm spray hit him. Reaching for the soap, he lathered himself up thoroughly, running his slippery hands all over his body. _This is nice._ He smiled to himself, then grew tense as a thought occurred to him: Was Zevran doing the same right now? Was he in the shower as well, cleaning up, getting ready for bed? Alistair had to bite back a moan at the pictures his imagination immediately provided: Zevran’s lithe, golden brown body, covered in fine droplets of water, the long blond hair clinging to his back, the blissful expression on his face as he relaxed…

Only he wouldn't be relaxed, would he? He'd been so _hard_ , so incredibly worked up. Alistair shivered at the memory of Zevran’s erection pressed against his thigh, at the look in his eyes, the pupils blown so widely his eyes had almost looked black. He'd said he'd dream of Alistair, and the double meaning of those words almost made him blush again.

Was Zevran taking care of it right now, his hand wrapped around himself, stroking, squeezing, maybe massaging his balls? Was he gasping, his lips half opened, his eyes shut in ecstasy? _God_! Alistair whined softly, pressing his hot face against the cool tiles, as he tried to imagine what Zevran's cock would look like. Would it be long, slim, and golden brown, like the rest of him? And would he be rough, impatient to get it over with so he could catch some sleep? No, he decided, Zevran would take it slow, savour every stroke and keep himself on the edge as long as possible, until-

With a sigh, Alistair gave in, his own hand dropping down to his half hard shaft. He might as well do this properly. It had taken him long enough to be okay with this, to get rid of the nuns’ voices in his head, whispering of sin and hellfire. And it had taken even longer until he'd stopped beating himself up for his fantasies, until he'd come to terms with the fact that they featured hard, lean male bodies just as prominently as soft, feminine curves. For the longest time, he’d been certain that he was a freak, a pervert, a mistake.

Leliana had been a big help, actually, talking him patiently through his doubts and worries. They had spent a fair number of evenings together at the pub, after choir practice. Just as friends, obviously, as she was very much in love with Aedan, completely captivated by their boss’s charismatic personality. In a way, it had actually made it easier for him to open up to her, knowing she wasn't interested in him at all. Besides, she was one of the few people who understood Alistair’s scruples, one of the few who didn't just discard the religious teachings of their childhood as irrelevant. And from what she'd mentioned of her past, he rather suspected that her own sexual preferences were a bit unorthodox as well. Which was quite an intriguing concept, actually...

But Alistair wasn't thinking of Leliana as he gripped himself harder, groaning at the feel of his soap-slicked hand on his cock. No, it was Zevran's mouth he was devouring in his imagination, Zevran’s smooth golden skin under his hands, Zevran’s amber eyes, burning with passion. Within moments, he was trembling so violently he had to steady himself with one hand against the tiles of the wall, thrusting hard into his own fist. It felt amazing, and yet he wanted more, wanted the real thing, wanted _Zevran_ , not just the pale shadow of his own fantasies. When he came for the second time that night, shuddering all over and unable to stop himself from crying out loud, he knew he was in deep trouble.

Carefully, he rinsed himself off and reached for a towel. _Time to go to bed_. Tomorrow was Sunday and he had the day off, barring any computer-related emergencies at work, but he wanted to be up in time for his early morning run, before the streets started to fill with people. And he'd need at least six hours of sleep if he wanted to have a clear head for his chess game in the afternoon.

He was on his way to his bed, yawning and stretching, when his phone buzzed once, signaling an incoming message. His heart beat faster when he saw it was from Zevran. Just three words: _Thinking of you_ , and a picture. Alistair swallowed hard when he realized what he was looking at.

Zevran's upper body, bared down to his waist, with the pattern of his tattoos emphasizing the play of muscles under the skin. And, at the bottom of the picture, Zevran's hand disappearing out of sight, the posture daring him to imagine- Alistair had to close his eyes for a moment. The picture wasn't exactly pornographic; it was quite tasteful as a matter of fact, with the lighting carefully arranged to throw artful shadows. And yet, looking at it did things to him he couldn't quite explain.

With shaking fingers he typed his answer: _Me, too_ , then tossed the phone onto his nightstand and turned off the light, staring into the darkness, his heart beating wildly. He probably wasn't going to get enough sleep after all.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Isabela watched as the water filled the large marble tub, forming big whorls, the scent of an expensive bathing oil filling the air. Almond, if she wasn't mistaken, with a hint of cinnamon and cloves. _Very suitable for the season_. She felt a smile tugging at her mouth. So far, she was very pleased with how this Christmas party had turned out.

It wasn't what she had expected at the start of it, to be sure. She’d arrived at the party without any plan for the night, except to have a good time. Isabela wasn't particularly interested in hooking up with any of her colleagues, and most of them were in serious relationships anyway. She'd spent a few nights with Zevran a while back, and it had been enjoyable enough, but he had obviously developed other interests. For a moment, she allowed herself to speculate on how far he'd gotten with Alistair. Well, she had her ways of finding out…

She glanced surreptitiously at Duncan, who was leaning against the doorframe, watching her, just as unconcerned about his nudity as she was. Fortunately, he had managed to wash most of the dye out of his beard, so it was almost back to its natural shiny black. He had such a striking face, with a hawk-like nose and full, sensual lips. There was something calm and strong about his expression, yet his dark eyes were full of fire. Yes, Duncan was a very attractive man, there was no denying it.

His body looked good, too, his skin dark and smooth, the muscles on his chest and stomach firm and taut. And he had such a beautiful cock, long and thick and slightly curved, a bit darker at the base. No longer hard, of course, after their earlier exertions - but still heavy against his thigh, twitching slightly when he caught her looking. _Gorgeous_.

"Isabela." Sauntering over, he dropped to his knees behind her, flinching only briefly at the hardness of the tiles. Leaning over her, he breathed a quick kiss on her shoulder, then proceeded to nibble along her collarbone. She closed her eyes in bliss and took both of his hands in hers, moulding them around her breasts. He had nice hands, cool and firm, and she could feel the strength in his long, flexible fingers. Oh yes, she had quite a few ideas for his hands...

Duncan traced the outline of her nipples with his fingertips, then pinched and tugged them ever so slightly until they were standing proudly at attention. “Ah, Isabela. I think I could worship your breasts for hours.” His voice was a caress against her ear, dark and honeyed. “Would you like that? You're made to be worshipped, you know. If you let me, I'll do my best to please you, any way you want it, for as long as you want it.” His breath was hot against her skin. “I promise I won't stop until you're completely and utterly sated, until you’re sore and hoarse from screaming.”

She whined impatiently at his words, and he chuckled. “Tell you what? We can have some fun in the bath first, and then I'll gladly take care of you.”

 _And I'll gladly let you._ Isabela forced herself to relax and enjoy the anticipation. _We have plenty of time, after all._ It would probably take a while until he was up for more, but it seemed he wasn't going to neglect her needs in the meantime. So many men were focused on nothing but getting off themselves. It was a pleasant change, and she intended to make the most of it.

They both fit nicely in the tub, with enough room to manoeuvre, so she could run her foot playfully up his thigh. He caught it with a laugh and began to massage the sole with just the right amount of pressure. It was extraordinary pleasant and relaxing, a warm, tingling stream traveling from the points he touched all the way to her neck, her back, her shoulders, her stomach. She moaned softly as she felt the tension drain from her body, drawing another deep, rich chuckle from his throat.

“That’s quite the luxury treatment.” She gazed at him from under her long lashes, unable to resist teasing him a little in turn. “Amazing sex, professional massages… Are you always this considerate, even if it's just a one-night stand?”

“Amazing sex? You think that was amazing? Honey, we've only just started.” He scoffed at her words, but there was a definite twinkle in his eyes. “Besides, this doesn't necessarily have to be 'just a one-night stand'.”

“Oh?” She raised an astonished eyebrow, doing her best to hide the heady rush of arousal that raced up her spine when his lips locked around her big toe and he sucked hard. “I’m not looking for a _relationship_ , Duncan.” She made a little moue of distaste. “Far too much work.”

He let go of her toe and directed his attention at her other foot, resuming the massage. “Neither am I, don't worry. But I wouldn't be averse to a repeat performance, the next time I'm in town. If you're interested.”

Isabela pretended to ponder his suggestion, even though her heart was already beating faster at the thought of having more of this. “I might be… No strings attached, though.” She pressed her lips together in a firm line, fighting back another loud moan.

“None whatsoever,” he confirmed earnestly, pulling her into his lap and swivelling her around in one smooth move, so she faced away from him and could lean against his broad chest. “You do what pleases you, and I hope that includes me.”

Isabela couldn't help but laugh at his words. The last of the tension disappeared as he cupped her breasts again, then let one of his hands trail lower to part her legs with a sure touch. He kept whispering in her ear as he caressed her, kept telling her how he meant to have her and how good it would feel. She writhed in his arms, unsure of what excited her more: his voice and the pictures he painted with it, or his hands, skilled and patient. He made her come again like this, then gathered her up in his arms and took her to the bed, where he put his tongue to work.

This time, she actually lost track of how often she climaxed, because he simply refused to let her come down, just kept licking and sucking, ignoring her cries for mercy. When he finally thrust inside her again, she was so sensitive that it almost hurt, and yet it felt so mind-blowingly _good_ , that thick, hard length invading her, filling her, rubbing against every sweet spot inside her. And he went on _forever_ , patient and insistent, tormenting her, pleasuring as no other man had done before, until she actually blacked out for a moment, too overcome to scream.

Isabela couldn't have said when he finished, though she thought she heard him cry out at some point, and when he eventually stretched out next to her, he looked heavy, relaxed and sated. She was still struggling for breath, and actually a little embarrassed because he had made her lose control so completely. Normally, she liked to be in charge, having a man at her mercy, a slave to his passion. It irked her that she had let him reverse the roles, albeit temporarily. _But, I will get back at you, you smug bastard_. _Next time…_

And there would be a next time. She wasn't done with him yet. _Not even remotely._ As if he'd read her thoughts, he turned to face her, brushing a kiss against her cheek. “So… I'll be back on the fifteenth. Any plans for that night?”

“I never plan that far ahead,” she quipped, but when his lips wandered lower, nipping the soft skin of her throat, she relented. “I'm pretty sure I’ll be able to make time for you, though.”

“I'd appreciate that.” She felt him smile against her skin. “And I'll be looking forward to our next… encounter.”

“Me, too.” She buried her fingers in his thick, dark hair, tugging slightly, and relishing his answering moan. _Very much so, in fact._

 


	6. Chapter 6

The coffee maker rattled and sputtered, steam rising from its nozzle. Zevran smiled contentedly. He loved everything about the process: the munching noise of the grinder; the rich aroma of the freshly made espresso; the hot coffee almost scalding his tongue. _Just like home_. Getting the machine installed had been his first priority when he had started working at W.O.D. There was simply no way he would have survived the watery brew they used to drink around here. Fortunately, Aedan had been agreeable to his suggestion. Zevran rather suspected their boss enjoyed the finer things in life himself.

Sipping carefully from his cup, he closed his eyes in bliss, allowing himself a few minutes of daydreaming before getting back to work. Sunday had been nice, lazy and relaxing. He'd woken up late, to a short but sweet text message from Alistair. His imagination had immediately gone into overdrive, providing various scenarios that involved a very willing Alistair and lots of oil and naked skin. He'd ended up taking matters into his own hands again, of course.

After a luxurious breakfast, he'd spent some time online, chatting to old friends at home and researching local choirs and chess clubs. He'd been surprised to learn that Alistair had actually won the local chess championship three years in a row. _Not just a casual player, then…_ He wondered how many more surprises the man had up his sleeve.

The afternoon had been set aside for working on his sword-fighting routines at the kendo studio, as usual. He’d finished the day with a good meal and a glass of heavy red wine. _Yes_. Pretty much the perfect Sunday, as far as Zevran was concerned.

“So, how did it go?”

He swiveled around to find Isabela standing in the doorway, a wide smile on her face. “What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes impatiently at him. “You and Alistair, of course. Did you do the deed? Is he a screamer? Does he like it rough? I'm dying to know all about it.”

Zevran hesitated. Under normal circumstances, he'd have readily obliged her. He _did_ have a reputation to maintain, after all, and besides, he regarded Isabela as a friend. Probably the closest friend he had in this place. Yet, something made him reconsider. He wasn't quite sure himself why he didn't want to talk about what had happened between him and Alistair. But, it didn't feel right, and he had learned the hard way that it was better to rely on his gut feeling in such matters.

“There's really nothing to tell, Isabela,” he said lightly, though he had little hope she would be content with such an evasive answer.

Predictably, she pouted. “Awww, come on. You were so eager to get your hands on him. I'm sure-“

“I don't want to talk about it.” It came out sharper than he had intended, and he cursed himself immediately for showing so much emotion. Isabela’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he knew he had to distract her. “What about you and our medical consultant, though? Did you get a thorough _counseling_ from him, I wonder?”

Isabela made a face at his terrible pun, but at the same time couldn't resist the opportunity to swagger, just as he had expected. “ _Very_ thorough indeed!” She closed her eyes, a blissful expression spreading over her face. “Duncan is quite amazingly _knowledgeable_ , you know.”

“I don't doubt it. And so very manly.” Zevran grinned. “I'm sure you had a memorable night.”

“You bet I did.” She sashayed off, popping her head back around the corner to wink at him. “But, since you are so very reticent today, you'll have to go without the juicy details this time, my dear. See you at lunch.”

He smiled to himself, thinking that this was probably just as much of a punishment for Isabela as it was for himself. She loved to tell him about her adventures, and he tended to be an eager listener. Hearing Isabela recount one of her nightly jaunts was better than porn any day.

He was about to return to his workspace when a quiet voice made him jump. “Zevran. Good morning.” He hadn't even noticed that Leliana had been right outside the kitchen all through his conversation with Isabela. _Sneaky_! He'd really have to be more careful in the future.

For the time being, he favoured her with his most dazzling smile. “Good morning, Leliana. Did you enjoy the party?”

“I certainly did.” She sniffed disdainfully. “And, I was glad to hear you didn't feel the need to brag. Alistair deserves to be treated right.”

 _Oh? This should be fun._ Zevran leaned back against the counter, schooling his features into a suitably sober look. “I certainly don't intend to treat him otherwise. I can assure you that I appreciate his many fine qualities, and-"

To his surprise, Leliana cut him off with a swift gesture, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Don't bother with the pretty words, Zevran. I'm neither stupid nor a prude. But, let me make one thing absolutely clear.” She stepped closer to him, and despite her slight figure she managed to look rather imposing as she straightened her back. “If you toy with him, if you _hurt_ him, I'll make sure you regret it."

She turned and left without waiting for his answer. Zevran sighed deeply and picked up his almost empty cup, considering her parting words. He understood where she was coming from, but really, there was no reason for her threats. He had no intention whatsoever to hurt Alistair. Sure, he'd broken more than his fair share of hearts in his time, but, as a rule, he took care to treat his partners well.

And it would be such a pity to break the whole thing off. Making out with Alistair had been hot and sweet, and Zevran was reasonably sure he could be persuaded to take things further. _A lot further_. He shivered involuntarily, balling his fists in a vain effort to keep his arousal in check.

Still, Alistair seemed oddly… _pure_ , for all his good looks. Maybe he should call a halt now, before anyone could get too involved? Maybe Leliana was right after all? Zevran sighed again. _Yes. That's definitely the reasonable thing to do, no doubt about it_.

Zevran’s newly-found resolve melted into butter the moment he caught sight of Alistair, bent over a desk to glare grimly at a computer screen. He looked utterly delectable in blue jeans and a plain white tee, his hair tousled where he'd run his hands through the thick curls in exasperation.

“Damn it, this should be easy as pie!” He was grumbling to himself, but when he turned to face Zevran, a bright smile chased away the frown on his face. A smile, accompanied by another one of those adorable blushes. Zevran caught himself wishing Alistair didn’t get too jaded about their encounters any time soon. To see his skin flush like this, all the way down his neck, probably even further down... It was quite the treat.

“Zevran.” Alistair awkwardly cleared his throat. “Hey. Did you have an enjoyable weekend? I mean-“ He broke off, clearly worried that he'd somehow implied too much.

“I had a lovely weekend, _querido_.” Fortunately, Zevran had no such scruples. “So many wonderful things to think about, to imagine…” He let his voice trail off suggestively. “It's great to see you. But, you seemed angry just now?”

Alistair looked confused for a moment, but then his face lit up in comprehension. “I… No, not angry. Just a bit mad at myself, because I can’t get this to work.” He indicated the computer screen with a tilt of his head. “Leliana asked me to upload some party pictures for everyone, and somehow the blasted system won't let me. It should be no problem, but I keep getting the same error message. Might have something to do with-“ He broke off, looking embarrassed. “Sorry. You're probably not interested in the technical details.”

“Not particularly,” Zevran admitted cheerily. “But I'm sure you'll be able to sort it out eventually. And, maybe we can have a peek at the pictures right here and now?”

“Sure.” Alistair made an inviting gesture, and Zevran dropped into the chair.

He noted with approval that this arrangement meant Alistair would have to lean over him to grab the mouse. Alistair was quite a bit taller than he was, and he had wonderfully wide shoulders, so he was framing Zevran on all sides. And he smelled so good… Zevran closed his eyes as another set of fantasies took over his brain. _Alistair moving behind him, above him, pressing him down into the sheets, his powerful body taut with barely restrained need. Alistair's voice, rough with passion, moaning his name, crying out in abandon…_ And of course, just like that, he was fully hard again, and he could only hope Alistair wouldn’t notice. Or maybe hope he would? Zevran wasn't quite sure.

Alistair clicked on the first picture in the gallery. It showed Aedan, with Leliana at his side, looking every inch the successful young entrepreneur. Quickly, they worked their way through the photos until they came to one with Zevran, lounging on a chair, looking relaxed and confident in his skimpy costume.

"You look amazing." Alistair's voice, close to his ear, sounded strangled. "But-"

"What is it?" Instinctively, Zevran wiggled back a little, eager for more contact, and was rewarded with a sharp inhale.

Alistair cleared his throat. "I was just wondering. Why the pointy ears? I mean, it was a Santa costume, and-"

"Oh, those." Zevran smiled, hit by a sudden flash of nostalgia. "I found them in a drawer when I was assembling my costume, and I put them on, on a whim. I've had them for ages. A former girlfriend of mine was really into elves, and I used to wear them for… role play purposes."

"You mean... Oh!" There was no need to turn around to know Alistair was blushing. "That sounds... interesting."

Zevran felt his smile widen. "I could wear them for you, if you like."

Alistair's rough gasp was all the answer he needed. Zevran had a hard time hiding his elation as they continued leafing through the pictures. _Sorry, Leliana._ There was no way he was going to break this off. Not when the future promised to be so _very_ exciting.


	7. Chapter 7

The pub was noisy and full of strangers, which probably was a good thing. Alistair had no wish for their conversation to be overheard; he was nervous enough about coming here with Zevran as it was. He would never have dared to ask, if he hadn't noticed Zevran's obvious reaction to his presence earlier.

The memory was more than a little exciting, actually: bending over Zevran; breathing in his scent as they looked at the screen together; bathing in the rich, sensuous timbre of his voice. And all the while, trying to keep his eyes away from the bulge in Zevran's tight jeans, because if he'd allowed his mind to wander _there_ , he might have done something he'd regret later.

Some people would have jumped at the chance, Alistair supposed, people like Isabela, for example. She would have dragged Zevran off to the nearest broom closet and had her way with him. Well, Alistair wasn't like her. He wasn't like Zevran either, but that was beside the point.

Because here they were, sitting side by side, so close that their thighs were touching and their hands kept accidentally brushing against each other when they raised their glasses. It was heaven, or it would have been, if he hadn't been expected to talk.

He cast about for a safe topic. It wasn't easy. He knew very little about Zevran, really. He wasn't even sure where exactly he came from. Somewhere in South America, Leliana had said, but she had been vague about the details. Anyway, Alistair didn't want to seem nosy. He wasn't in the habit of talking about his own past, so why would he inquire into Zevran's?

_Hobbies_. That was better. He took a deep sip from his glass to wet his throat. "So, what do you do in your free time? Apart from dancing, I mean."

Zevran favoured his weak attempt at humour with a dazzling smile. "I do martial arts. Karate, mostly, and kendo."

"That's sword-fighting, right?" Alistair was glad not to be completely clueless. "Are you good at it?"

This earned him another smile, this one a little more suggestive. "I like to think so, yes. Why don't you come along and watch some time? I think you might enjoy it."

"Sure." Alistair smiled back. "I'd like that."

"I'll be at the studio on Sunday afternoon, round about three o'clock. Do we have a date?" Zevran sounded calm and relaxed, as if he asked people out on _dates_ all the time. Which he probably did.

Alistair nodded, quickly scribbling down the address Zevran gave him. _A date._ He rather liked the sound of that.

* * *

The week felt very long to Alistair, but finally, it was Sunday afternoon. Fortunately, he didn't have a chess game this week. The address Zevran had given him was easy to find, a non-descript brick building, much like any gym he'd been to. Inside, it looked sparse and plain, with wooden floors and white-washed walls.

Zevran himself was already waiting for him on the sidewalk. "It used to be a ballet school," he explained. "When they turned it into a _dojo_ , they just took off the mirrors and the bars, and left in the floorboards."

Most of the people they met were polite but distant, minding their own business. They greeted Zevran with respectful nods, but there was little talking, which suited Alistair just fine. Zevran took him to a kind of vestibule with a few wooden benches and large window on one wall. Through the window, Alistair could look into one of the training rooms, still dark and empty.

"I'll be back in a minute." Zevran disappeared through a narrow door at the back.

When he returned and joined the instructor and a few other people in the room, Alistair was surprised to see that he was wearing a kind of black armour made from hard leather that covered most of his torso as well as his arms and shoulders. There was even a helmet to go with it.

He immediately understood the need for safety precautions when the training started, though. True, the swords were made of bamboo, not steel. But this was obviously no beginners' class. After a few warm-up moves, both Zevran and the opponent he was paired with moved with incredible speed and power, their swords blurring through the air, too fast for the eye to follow.

The armour should have made it harder to tell the fighters apart, yet Alistair had no trouble identifying Zevran. There was something about the way he moved, a sinuous grace paired with obvious strength and stamina that was… Alistair's throat went dry at the sight, and he was struck by a sudden surge of sheer _want_ that left him breathless. He had no clue what on Earth such a magnificent creature like Zevran could see in him. How could he possibly be interested in a bumbling idiot with next to no social graces who-

"Alistair? Alistair Theirin?" A deep, vaguely familiar voice from behind made him spin around.

A tall man with curly blond hair and warm, brown eyes was extending his hand to him. "It's you, isn't it? Remember me?"

"Of course. Cullen." Alistair took the hand and shook it. "Fancy seeing you here."

Cullen Rutherford had been a prefect at his boarding school. He was a few years older, but they had slept in the same dorm for a while. More importantly, Cullen had been one of the few people at Temple Gardens School that Alistair remembered with any kind of fondness. He'd been kind and patient, with no interest in bullying or tormenting younger students. They had even played chess together now and then. Cullen had invariably won, and Alistair smiled at the memory, wondering if he would have a better chance of beating him nowadays.

"I train here once a week." Cullen indicated his sports bag with a casual shrug. He looked to be in good form, too. "What about you?" He followed Alistair's gaze to the window. Zevran had just taken off his helmet and was shaking out his hair, laughing at something his opponent had said. "Here to watch your boyfriend practice?"

"Oh, he's not-" Alistair bit his lip hard when he realized that his first impulse had been to laugh off Cullen's assumption. And yet, it was sort of true, wasn't it? He wasn't quite sure Zevran would appreciate the term _boyfriend_ , but if this was a date... "Yes. His name is Zevran."

“Ah. We've met.” Cullen smiled warmly. "Hey, don't worry. I've always wondered… Well, let's just say, I'm not surprised."

_You've wondered? Why?_ Alistair almost blurted out the question, but he stopped himself just in time. He was glad when Cullen changed the topic and asked him about his job. They parted shortly after, with a friendly hug and a promise to meet for a drink.

Zevran emerged from the changing room a little while later, freshly showered and buzzing with energy, accepting Alistair's enthusiastic compliments with a regal nod. When they left the studio, the wind was chilly and there was a hint of snow in the air.

"Do you want a ride home?" Zevran raised an inquiring eyebrow, jingling a set of car keys.

Alistair nodded eagerly. Zevran's offer was only too welcome. The thought of the long bus ride home had been daunting.

They squeezed into Zevran's mini, which was no mean feat for a man of Alistair's size. Zevran was quiet on the ride, asking once for Alistair's address, then focussing on the road. When they arrived, he got out of the car and walked over to Alistair's side to open the door for him.

"It gets stuck in cold weather," he explained with a shrug.

They were standing close together, almost touching. Alistair didn't really want to say goodbye yet. The ride in the small car had been sort of intimate, with the darkness surrounding them in their little cocoon of shared warmth. Being with Zevran felt so very right, natural and comfortable, yet more exciting than anything that had ever happened to him. But what now? Should he-

Fortunately, Zevran sped up his decision by rising on tiptoes to kiss him softly on the lips, which made it easy to draw him closer and deepen the kiss. Zevran's lips were soft, and he tasted faintly of cinnamon. But, most of all, the kiss immediately brought back memories of Zevran's lips on other parts of him, and Alistair's body responded with alarming swiftness. He moaned softly, and Zevran did the same, closing the remaining distance between them to let him feel exactly how much the kiss had affected him, too.

For a heartbeat, Alistair considered throwing all caution to the wind and asking him up for a coffee. Zevran felt so wonderful, and he smelled so good, and he had looked so hot while fighting. Besides, wouldn't Zevran expect it, after what had happened at the party? People didn't just go back to kissing and cuddling after that, right? But, on the other hand, the apartment was a mess, the bed unmade, and wasn't there a pile of dirty laundry in the bathroom? The fridge was probably empty, too. And he himself… He had showered in the morning, but if Zevran-

Before Alistair could quite manage to sort it all out, the moment passed and Zevran stepped back, solicitously readjusting his scarf. "You do try my patience, _querido_ ," he muttered under his breath. But, when Alistair opened his mouth to reply, he shook his head and flashed him another mischievous smile. "It's fine. Good night, and sweet dreams."

"Wait." Alistair cleared his throat. "Would you like to come over next Saturday? We could watch a movie or-"

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find something to do." Zevran's smile widened. "Yes. I would like that. Very much."

 


	8. Chapter 8

_Can't make it tomorrow. Call you later._ No, that was too abrupt. Duncan cursed silently as he deleted the message and started over. _Need to cancel. Please forgive me. Can I call tonight?_ No. Too apologetic. It wasn't his fault that his car had broken down, after all. And there was no way he was going to go by train. At this time of the year, the trains would be stuffy and overheated. Besides, there were bound to be delays. One more attempt. _Sorry, have to cancel. Will explain later. Call you at eight?_ Yes, that should do.

Duncan sighed deeply. He had really been looking forward to seeing Isabela again. The night they'd spent together after the Christmas party had been nothing short of spectacular. Since then, they had spoken several times via Skype. It had taken Duncan a while to get used to it, but on the whole it was really fortunate that Aedan had insisted on setting everyone up with proper equipment for video conferencing, even the external consultants. True, sometimes he caught himself hankering for the good old days, when people were satisfied with a simple phone call. On the other hand, being able to see Isabela as well as talk to her was quite the treat.

When he made the call at the appointed time, Isabela was already waiting and, to his relief, she didn't seem angry, despite the short notice. "Duncan. What happened?"

He smiled at the sight of her. Isabela had obviously decided to take the laptop into her bedroom with her. She was sitting propped up against a big pillow, with a metal bedframe visible behind her, and she was dressed in something blue and satiny, a nightgown or maybe a slip. Either way, it allowed him to catch glimpses of her lovely breasts, which he very much appreciated.

"My car refused to start this morning, and the guys at the garage say it will take at least until Friday to fix it." He made a face. "I'm sorry, honey. I would have loved to be there."

She shrugged. "Can't be helped. Such a pity, though. I've been missing you." With a regretful sigh, she stretched voluptuously, lifting her arms over her head.

Eagerly, Duncan followed the movement of her breasts with his eyes. He inhaled sharply. "I've been missing you, too. And I had such interesting plans for our evening together."

"Did you, now?" There was a naughty gleam in Isabela's eyes.

"Oh, yes." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Do you want me to tell you about it? In detail?" Her breath caught and he smiled to himself. _Got you_. "You like that, don't you? Me talking dirty to you?"

"God, yes." Isabela didn't even bother to deny it. That was part of her attraction, he realized. She wasn't going to apologize for anything that turned her on.

"Just give me a moment." He wasn't too sure about how this was going to work, but he certainly wasn't going to do it sitting at his desk.

Carefully he unplugged his own laptop and got to his feet to carry it over to the couch. It took him a moment to settle down properly, and to work out a good camera angle.

Isabela watched the manoeuvre with interest. "Make sure the laptop is on a firm surface," she advised him with a saucy wink. "You want to have your hands free."

He grinned. "Good point. Have you done this before?"

"On occasion." Isabela smirked. "So, what's next?"

"Well, let's imagine I was there with you. On your bed." God, he was already getting hard, and they hadn't even properly started yet.

"Hmmmm." She closed her eyes for a moment. "Nice thought… What would you do?"

He swallowed. _Take your time. There's no rush._ "I think… I'd kiss you first. Slowly, deeply, plenty of tongue. And at the same time…" He held back for a moment, but then he gave in to the temptation and let his hand drop to his crotch, rubbing himself lightly through the fabric of his pants.

Isabela had opened her eyes again, and she hadn't missed the movement, even though he had kept his hand out of the camera frame. "Yes?" She let her own hand slowly trail lower, brushing against her breasts.

Duncan moistened his lips with his tongue. "I'd caress your breasts." He could see her nipples grow taut, just barely hidden by the thin fabric of the gown, and it spurned him on.

"I'd roll your nipples between my fingers… Yes, just like that." It was incredibly hot, watching her do what he described, watching her reaction to it. "And then I'd pinch, harder, because you like it rough, don't you?"

Isabela actually arched up at his words, gasping as her fingertips squeezed her own flesh. "Go on. Please."

He grew bolder, unzipping his pants and reaching inside to touch himself. "I'd push aside your gown so I could lick your nipples."

Without hesitation, Isabela bared her breasts to him, still playing with them, trying to imitate what he was describing.

"Yes, just like that." He was breathing faster, but he did his best to match his pace to hers. "I'd tease you, just a little, and then I'd suck, as hard as I could."

Isabela whined softly, her head lolling back against the pillow.

Instinctively, Duncan gripped himself harder. "And then I'd take your hand and put it where I want it, where I _need_ it."

Isabela nodded. "Yes. And I'd stroke your cock, up and down, just like that." Her eyes were firmly glued to the motion of his arm, and for a second Duncan considered tilting the camera just a little, letting her _see_ , but then he decided against it. Better to let her imagination play freely.

He was finding it increasingly hard to breathe, and he realized he would have to speed things up. "I'd spread your legs, wide, and then…"

She complied, giving him a full view of her lacy panties, and he actually had to pause for a moment before he could go on. "I'd push those panties aside and put my mouth on you."

Isabela's hand found its way between her legs, brushing lightly over the silky fabric, and he cursed under his breath.

"I… I'd lick you, find every spot that makes you scream, _fuck_ you with my tongue, taste you…" He tried to slow down, desperately tried to make it last longer. "Fuck, you are so damn delicious, you taste like heaven, damn it, Isabela, you-"

It was no use. He was drunk on his own words already, thrusting hard into his own hand. Somehow he kept talking, but he was getting increasingly incoherent. Isabela was whimpering, her fingers struggling to keep up with his words, dancing over her heated flesh with assurance, faster and faster, until she couldn't take it anymore and came with a wordless cry. He wasn't far behind.

When her breathing had calmed down, Isabela opened her eyes again, smiling mischievously. "Gods, Duncan. That was good. Almost as good as the real thing."

"Almost." He nodded his agreement. "You're amazing."

His heart was racing like mad as he reached for a tissue and cleaned himself up, turning away from the camera. _I need more practice with this kind of thing, but hot damn!_

When they had both rearranged their clothing, he cleared his throat. "So, much as I enjoyed this… Do you think we can find a new date?"

"Sure." She reached for the laptop again, all business now, her face taking on a focussed expression. _She must have opened a second window._ "Let me check my calendar. When are you meeting Aedan?"

"He suggested the 22nd. Wednesday." Duncan followed her example. "I'll see him at two o'clock, but we could meet- Aw, damn it!"

"What's the matter?" Isabela yawned.

"I'm seeing an old friend for dinner on the 22nd. Riordan Ward. We went to medical school together, and we haven't seen each other in ages." He rubbed his eyes wearily. "He won't be in town for long, so I can't really postpone it. Could we meet the day before?"

"Nope." Isabela categorically shook her head. "Tuesday nights are reserved for my dance class. Sorry."

He raised a surprise eyebrow. "A dance class? What kind of dancing?" He tried to imagine Isabela on a dance floor, in a formal dress.

"Oriental dance." She actually seemed a little embarrassed. "Belly dancing," she elaborated when he looked confused. "It's fun. And it's not as easy as it looks."

"I bet it isn't." Picturing her was pretty enticing, though. "I'd love to watch you dance."

"Not going to happen." Isabela shook her head. "I dance to keep in shape, not to _entertain_ anyone." She softened her harsh words immediately with a smile, but Duncan duly took note of the warning.

"Right. Anyway…" He decided to change the subject. "I would really like to see you again before Christmas."

"Me, too. Give me a sec." She was gazing at the screen again, frowning slightly. "Your friend's called Riordan Ward, you said? Sounds familiar… I think I met him at a conference a few months ago. Ah, here he is." She whistled softly through her teeth. "Yup, I remember him. Aedan and I had coffee with him, and he made quite an impression. That's a good picture of him, on the website of his clinic. Tall, dark, and handsome. He's a _very_ attractive guy.”

"He is," Duncan agreed. "And a brilliant doctor, too. Specializes in tropical diseases. What-"

"He sounds interesting. Maybe I could join the two of you for dinner?" Her eyes were twinkling again. "If you pick a nice place, that is."

"Riordan suggested a French restaurant in the City. Let me see..." A quick search produced Riordan's message. " _Le Dragon Rouge_. Knowing him, the food will be marvellous. And incredibly expensive."

"Not a problem." Isabela looked thoughtful. "I could probably get Aedan to pay for it, if you want. Networking expenses, you know."

"I don't think that will be necessary." Duncan smiled. "But yes, dinner for three is a good idea. I'll ask him, and I don't think he'll mind." He hesitated. "And after dinner?"

"Well, that depends…" Isabela let her voice trail off suggestively. "You and Riordan, back at school, were you friends or were you _friends_?"

Duncan gasped as the implication of her words hit him. "Just friends, I'd say. At least, about ninety percent of the time." He smiled fondly as he remembered a few incidents in their shared dorm.

Once again, Isabela didn't miss a thing. "Actually, it's the other ten percent I'm interested in." She clucked her tongue. "Why don't we wait and see what happens?"

"Let's do that," Duncan agreed, feeling a pleasant shiver race down his spine. "I look forward to next week."


	9. Chapter 9

The credits were rolling, and Alistair realized he had absolutely no idea what the movie had been about. Oh, there had been explosions, and probably a car chase, too. But, from the moment Zevran had settled at his feet, refusing the offer of the second armchair with a graceful shrug, he'd been too… preoccupied to pay any attention to what was happening on the screen.

Zevran had arrived around six, with an assortment of DVDs and a bottle of red wine. “I hope I haven't misjudged your taste, _querido_. I want us both to have a good time tonight.”

His smile had made Alistair's stomach flutter, and he'd muttered an incoherent answer, picking a movie at random. Focussing on the screen had been a welcome distraction at that point, a chance for him to collect himself. Or, so he'd thought, until Zevran had leant back against his legs, warm and solid, his head only inches from Alistair's fingers, and he had spent the rest of the movie dreaming of touching his hair.

Zevran was quiet, making no move to get up as the screen went dark, and finally, Alistair gave in to the temptation. Tentatively, he ran a hand over Zevran's head, enjoying the silky texture of his hair, then threaded his fingers deeper, taking care not to get entangled in the long, golden strands. Zevran made a small, contented noise, relaxing all over. But, when Alistair's fingertips brushed against his ear, he tensed and his breath hitched for a moment. Intrigued, Alistair found that spot again, caressing the soft skin, tugging gently, and Zevran responded with a deep, sensual purr that went straight to his groin.

Emboldened, he let his other hand explore further, along the perfect line of Zevran's shoulders, barely brushing against the smooth skin of his throat, down across his chest, his stomach... Alistair simply couldn't get enough. The heat of Zevran’s body, the feeling of him, warm and alive and _there_ , was sheer magic. The fabric of his shirt was in the way, but somehow that only made it more exciting, a tantalizing obstacle that kept him from what he wanted, teasing him with the promise of more. Zevran kept still and let him proceed, making small noises of enjoyment, his eyes half closed.

It was just as good as any dream Alistair had ever had, no, better, so when his phone started ringing, some part of his brain mistook it for the sound of his alarm clock, and he went straight into panic mode, freezing in place. _No! I don't want to wake up!_ When he realized his mistake, it took all his control not to laugh hysterically.

“Just a moment.” With a sigh, he got to his feet. He'd left his phone in the hallway. One glance told him it was Leliana calling, but he switched it off, suppressing a tinge of guilt.

When he came back, he had calmed down a little. Yet, the moment he saw Zevran, another wave of desire washed over him, so powerful that all he could do was stop and stare. Stare at Zevran, here in his very own living room, so beautiful, so sensual, so relaxed. _So damn_ _perfect_.

Zevran was watching him quietly, as if trying to read his mind. "It's getting late." He stretched lazily, displaying his body to maximum advantage. "What now? Do you want me to stay a little longer?" He caught Alistair's eye, fixing him with a gaze that was both inviting and devoid of any pressure.

Alistair couldn't speak. He couldn't move either. As a matter of fact, he was pretty sure his heart had stopped. Or his brain had ceased working. Maybe both.

The corners of Zevran's eyes crinkled in a faint smile. “ _Querido_.” He glanced up at Alistair from under thick, blond lashes. “Tell me what you want.” His voice was warm and gentle, and he sounded almost hypnotic.

Alistair's heart had resumed beating, but now it was racing so wildly he was sure it had to show, even through his t-shirt. But, no matter how nervous he was, there was simply no way he was going to back out now. Trembling, he made himself step closer, then sank to his knees right in front of Zevran.

“I want-“ God, he wanted so many things, and he had little to no idea how to proceed. He wanted to see more of that smooth golden skin, he wanted to run his hands all over it, wanted to feel it, to _taste_ it. But, more than anything else, he desperately wanted Zevran to enjoy this, to make him come back for more, and-

“Alistair?” Zevran’s eyes were flashing hot fire at him, and his hips were rolling slowly, as if of their own accord. “Do you want me naked?”

Alistair nodded eagerly, but he had to swallow before his voice would obey him. “Yes. Oh, yes.”

Zevran needed no further invitation. With quick, sinuous movements, he pulled his tight shirt over his head, then writhed out of his jeans. He paused a moment before he pulled down his boxers, as if he wanted to ratchet up the tension even further, and Alistair unconsciously licked his lips in anticipation. He could see the outline of Zevran's cock through the thin fabric, hard and taut and beautiful, and he almost whined when Zevran hooked his thumbs into the waistband to slowly, slowly, pull them down.

And then he was naked, naked and gorgeous, and it was almost too much. Alistair was shaking all over with want, but he still held back, paralyzed by the fear of doing something wrong.

“What do you want?” Zevran repeated, and there was no coyness in the question, just… God, he sounded just as wrecked as Alistair felt, and he was so _hard_ , and-

Alistair forced himself to speak. “I want to touch you. Can I?”

The corners of Zevran’s mouth curved up in a perfect smile. “I rather think I might go mad if you don't, _querido_. Feel free.”

Alistair lay down next to him on the rug, placing his trembling hands on Zevran's chest, relishing the heat of his skin. Zevran responded with a deep, guttural moan, his muscles going taut under his silky skin. Slowly, uncertainly, Alistair moved his hand further down, expecting any moment to- Well, he didn't even know what he expected. Zevran certainly wasn't complaining, and he had mostly outgrown the fear of being smitten by a higher power for his sinful behaviour. And yet, when his hand finally closed around Zevran's length, he exhaled sharply in sudden relief.

Zevran echoed the sound, his eyes closed in bliss. “Yes. Good. Go on. Don't stop.”

Alistair's head was spinning, and he wanted to go on, he really did, but- He froze in motion. “Zev, I…”

“What?” There was a hint of impatience in Zevran's tone. “Do what you will, Alistair _._ I'm all yours.”

“God, Zev.” The familiar feeling of a blush rising to his cheeks made him cringe. “I want you so badly, and I want to make this good for you, but I've never really-“

“ _What_?” Zevran's eyes flew wide open, and his expression went from aroused to incredulous in a heartbeat. “You're a virgin?”

He was still hard, though, his cock twitching in Alistair's grip, and that gave him the courage to answer. “No. Of course not.”

“But?” Zevran wasn't so easily satisfied. Catching Alistair's wrist, he pulled his hand away, softening the gesture with a quick kiss on his palm.

“I've slept with a few girls.” Alistair bit his lip. _Two, actually._ Neither experience had been spectacular, though both of them had been kind and gentle. “I've just… I've never been with another man.”

Zevran didn't answer for a moment. When he spoke, he sounded weary. “Why didn't you tell me? I would have-“

“But that's just it! Would you even have kissed me?” Alistair was surprised by the bitterness in his own voice, and he quickly did his best to smooth it over. “I'm sorry. I… I wanted this Zevran, all of it. I still want it.”

A brief flash of shocked hurt had wandered over Zevran's features at his outburst, but it was quickly replaced by an easy smile. “As do I, it seems.”

He was still holding Alistair's wrist, and now he moved his hand down again, lacing his own fingers through Alistair's and wrapping both their hands around his cock, still more than half hard. “Come on.” His whisper was gentle but urgent. “Don't worry. You know what you like. Chances are, I like it, too.”

Encouraged, Alistair began to move his hand, up and down, quickly finding a rhythm, and it was… God, it was so amazing, feeling Zevran shudder under his caresses, catching his mouth in sloppy kisses, breathing in the scent of his arousal… He hardly noticed when Zevran's hands found their way under his shirt and pulled it off, but when Zevran pulled down his zipper and cupped him through his briefs, it felt so amazing that he bucked hard into his touch.

“Shhh.” Zevran kissed him deeply as he stretched out at his side, both their bodies bare now, skin touching, _cocks_ touching, and nothing, nothing had ever felt this good.

Alistair knew he was close, but he held on out of pure stubbornness. He wanted to make Zevran come first, wanted to see him overwhelmed with lust.

Zevranwas hanging by a thread by now, his face almost feverish, his hips moving involuntarily as he thrust hard into their interlocked hands. “ _Querido_ , I…”

Alistair instinctively tightened his grip, and Zevran shivered all over, his body going taut as a coiled spring. His face contorted, as if in pain, then suddenly relaxed, making him look young and oddly vulnerable. One more shudder, and he came hard, spilling all over both of them with a long, heaving sigh.

"Zev…" It was overwhelming, mind-blowing, and Alistair's brain just blanked out at that point. There was nothing but intense pleasure, racing through his veins; nothing but the intoxicating feel of skin, hot and slick and sweaty; nothing but Zevran, panting against his ear. He almost cried at the sheer perfection of it.

And then it was over and the doubts were back, without a second's respite. Zevran was so much more experienced, he was bound to have had fantastic sex before. How could he, Alistair, possibly measure up to his former partners? Here they were, on the _floor_ , damn it, sticky and shivering, and he had made a mess of things, as usual. Zevran would be polite about it, of course, but he would find excuses not to meet again, and then things would go back to the way they'd been before, and Alistair wasn't sure he could bear it.

"Hey." Zevran sounded rough, but there was a smile on his face. "You okay?"

He gave Alistair a gentle push, so he was lying on his back, then sat up on his haunches to look him over. "You look like sex on a plate."

Alistair blushed violently again as he followed Zevran's gaze down to the mess on his stomach.

"Want me to clean you up?" Zevran licked his lips, and Alistair had to close his eyes when the meaning of his words hit home.

"Yes, please." He had intended to keep his eyes firmly shut, but when he felt Zevran's tongue on his stomach, he couldn't help risking a peek, and it was the hottest thing ever. The sincere enjoyment on Zevran's face as he tasted them both immediately made him forget his embarrassment. When Zevran finished with a pleased sigh and pulled him into a long kiss, sharing the taste, he moaned helplessly, unable to contain his reaction.

Zevran laughed softly. "You are so delicious, and you don't even know it." He brushed a damp lock of hair away from Alistair's forehead. "We definitely need to explore this further."

Alistair felt a curious tingle rise inside his stomach at those words. _Explore further…_ Did that mean- He didn't dare to ask.

"It's really late. I need to go." Zevran rose with a reluctant sigh, reaching for his clothes. "See you on Monday, _querido_."

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Zevran kept shaking his head on the way home, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles went white. He was mad at himself. What was he doing? 

When Alistair had told him about his lack of experience, his first impulse had been to run. The last thing he needed was someone falling for him, someone complicating his life with _love_. And he would have left, if it hadn't been for Alistair's words, and for the bitterness that had marred his handsome face for a second. Zevran simply couldn't bring himself to leave at that point. How could he let Alistair continue thinking that he was unwanted, undesirable, or whatever silliness the man had come up with?

 _But, you_ _need to stop it now_ _, you idiot_. His foot came down hard on the brake when he realized he was going much too fast. _Focus_! But, it was no use. He had Alistair on his mind, and he kept analysing the evening, trying to understand what had happened. All he'd wanted was to let Alistair down gently, give him a good time, make him come quickly, and then be out of it.

But instead... For all his faults, Zevran wasn't in the habit of lying to himself. And, if he was honest, he didn't _want_ to end it. He liked Alistair, he really did. Besides, he was still shivering at the memory of his orgasm, so much sweeter, so much more intense than anything he'd experienced in years. He shook his head in incomprehension. _What's going on?_ Did it take a sweet innocent to tickle his fancy nowadays? He was disgusted with himself. Had he really become so jaded? Not a pleasant thought. Still, it was easier to contemplate than the alternative.

With a sigh, Zevran turned into the driveway and got out of the car, making his way up to his apartment. Four days until Christmas Eve. Four whole days to come to his senses and do the decent thing. Four days should be plenty.

* * *

He'd had a vague notion of talking to Alistair the next morning, making it clear that they couldn't just go on like this, but when he arrived at the office, Alistair was nowhere to be seen. With a heartfelt sigh, Zevran turned his attention to W.O.D.'s spring marketing campaign. He had quite a few ideas for bringing their name to people's attention, but he already feared Aedan would reject most of them as too frivolous. _Such a pity_.

Still, he spent an enjoyable few hours mapping out a new, more aggressive social media strategy and checking out venues for a number of events he had in mind. With a sigh, he finally leaned back, ready for a break. Their network of contacts in the medical profession was getting quite impressive, thanks in no small measure to Isabela's efforts, but they still had trouble persuading people to _pay_ for their services. Everyone was enthusiastic about the benefits of having the database available, but when it came to actually laying down money for it… It was fortunate that their financial backer, Cailan Kingsley, was an idealist who didn't seem too worried about the future of his investment.

Stretching languorously, Zevran considered his next move. A cup of coffee would be nice. He also needed to pick up some stuff at the printer room, and he could do that on the way back. _Yes. Coffee_.

Shale was in the kitchen when hegot there, and she'd set out a plate of delicious looking cookies on the countertop. As usual, she was immaculately styled, in a severe but elegant suit, with a beautiful quartz necklace around her neck. There was a deep frown on her face, though, and she was rubbing ineffectually at a smudge on the windowsill with a cleaning rag. "Blasted sparrows. I keep telling Leliana, we ought to get someone to clean them out instead of wasting seeds on them."

"Fine with me." Zevran shrugged. He'd never understood the custom of feeding birds in winter. It only attracted more hungry beaks, in his experience.

"Just you wait. Next thing we'll have pigeons begging for scraps and crapping on the benches." Shale nodded ominously, then retreated to her own little cubicle.

Zevran finished his coffee and made his way to the printer, set up in a small cabinet at the back of the office space. When he arrived, he was greeted by the sight of a familiar broad back, bent down over the toner unit. Alistair was wholly absorbed in his task and didn't notice him until he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Zev." A bright smile appeared on Alistair's face. "How are you doing? This is such a mess. Printers are demonic appliances, I'm sure of it."

Just then, his phone went off, buzzing insistently. "Oh, shit. Could you-" Alistair raised his blackened hands in a gesture that was almost comical.

"With pleasure." Zevran didn't quite manage to hide his grin.

Alistair kept his phone in the back pockets of his tight jeans, and it was absolutely no sacrifice to dig it out for him. But, just when he had retrieved it, the ringing stopped.

There was a faint blush on Alistair's cheeks, but he was holding up nicely. "Who was it?"

Zevran glanced at the display. "Someone called Cullen."

"Oh." Alistair's blush deepened. "It's probably about that chess game."

When Zevran raised a questioning eyebrow, he laughed, but it seemed a little forced. "He's an old acquaintance from school. I met him at your _dojo_ , remember?"

Zevran nodded. "I thought the name sounded familiar." Yes. He could put a face to the name now. A very attractive face, too. "An old friend, you say. Were the two of you ever-"

"Oh God, no." Alistair just barely stopped himself from wiping his forehead with his hand. "No. You know, back then I was… I didn't really know that I..." He was obviously having a hard time finding the right words. "Besides, I don't think he would have been interested. I mean, there were no girls at school, of course, but I kind of assumed he had a girlfriend somewhere. But, either way, a guy like him, popular, and good-looking? He was a prefect, too, and older than me. He would never have looked at me twice."

"And yet he recognized you straight away." A fact which bothered him a little, Zevran realized. But why would it? Even if that Cullen guy was interested in Alistair, that was only natural and nothing to worry about. He wasn't about to get _jealous_ , was he? Quickly, he brushed the notion aside.

Alistair was still looking around for something to wipe his hands on. He looked adorable, with his hair slightly tousled, and Zevran was struck by a sudden impulse. "You know, _querido_ …" A quick manoeuvre brought Alistair with his back against the wall, hands well away from his body. "It just occurs to me that it would be really easy to take advantage of you right now." Stepping closer, he pinned Alistair to the wall with his hips. A hasty glance over his shoulder told him they were alone and undisturbed, at least for the time being.

Alistair groaned in surprise. The expression on his face vacillated between indignation and arousal, but his body was obviously less torn on how to react. Zevran moaned happily, rubbing himself against Alistair's torso like a cat, running his hands all over that lovely, firm body.

"God, Zevran." Alistair sounded _raw_ , and he was already fully hard, straining against his jeans.

Zevran caught his lips in a long, deep kiss, drinking in his sighs, tasting his need. Alistair responded with the same enthusiasm, and it was wildly intoxicating. Caught up in a sudden rush of arousal, Zevran didn't care where they were, didn't care that any moment anybody could walk in and-

"Oh goodness, really?" Morrigan's disgusted voice was like an ice-cold shower. "Get a room, will you."

There was a pained sound from Alistair, even though Morrigan had already stepped back and left them alone. "Oh shit."

Zevran stepped back immediately, doing his best to hide his amusement as he tossed Alistair a rag for cleaning his hands. "I'm sorry, _querido_. I… got carried away."

Alistair looked predictably mortified, but to his credit, he didn't try to put all the blame on Zevran alone. "Just my luck to have her walk in. Morrigan, of all people!" He shook his head. "How am I ever… I guess I'll just be standing over here until the blushing stops, right?"

Zevran laughed softly. "Awww, come on. I'm sure Morrigan has seen worse. But, maybe we ought to find a way to spend some time alone together, and soon. Somehow I don't think I can wait until the weekend."

"Me neither." Alistair smiled sheepishly. "Besides, Saturday is Christmas Day."

"Yes. I had almost forgotten." Zevran sighed.

"Will you be spending Christmas with your family? Maybe travel home?" It was a perfectly natural question, and Alistair sounded completely innocuous, but Zevran felt his mood darken.

"Absolutely not." He had never liked Christmas, for a plethora of reasons. _And as for family-_ It occurred to him that Alistair appeared quite shaken by his brusque answer, and he relented a little. "I don't have any living relatives back there. And, if I had, I wouldn't want to see them."

"Ah." Alistair nodded, but didn't ask more. Zevran was grateful, all things considered.

"So, to get back to our earlier and decidedly more pleasant topic of conversation…" He smiled widely to make up for his earlier abruptness. "I'll have to put in a few late shifts today and tomorrow, but what about Wednesday night? The 22nd? You could come over to my place, if you'd like."

And just like that, they had another date.

Alistair spent the rest of the day hiding away in some server room or other, but Zevran didn't have that luxury. Sooner or later he would have to talk to Morrigan, and he decided not to postpone the inevitable. When he spotted her alone at a table at lunch, he walked over and put his tray down with a questioning glance, receiving a cool nod in response.

“Morrigan. How are you doing? I hope…” Zevran struggled to come up with a suitably light-hearted reference to what had happened earlier that day. It was harder than he'd expected.

She returned his greeting with a perfunctory smile. “Zevran. What an unfortunate incident. I must say, I was surprised.”

“Oh?” Instinctively, he leant back, crossing both arms in front of his chest, then ended up cursing himself for being so obviously defensive. “Why is that?”

“Well, not at catching you in a delicate situation, to be honest.” Her tone was dry as bone. “But, really, _Alistair_?” Her left eyebrow shot up almost all the way to her hairline. “I didn't think he’d be your type. Too naïve, too ingenuous. And far too awkward.”

“Alistair isn't stupid.” Once again, Zevran had no idea where the words had come from. “Anything but!” _Oh, great._ If he started passionately defending Alistair, soon enough everyone would know-

“I never said he was.” Morrigan favored him with another icy smile, but Zevran barely heard her words as the realization hit him.

Of course everyone knew. It was blindingly obvious, and he himself was probably the last person to see it.

He was in love.


	11. Chapter 11

Isabela had to admit that _Le Dragon Rouge_ was a class above her usual haunts. She was glad that she'd taken care to dress for the occasion. Her black dress was sexy, but not too obvious, the knee-length skirt just tight enough to show off her curves, the lacy, long-sleeved top allowing tantalizing glimpses of the tight bodice underneath.

The two men had dressed up, too, in dark suits, which suited them well. They chatted about this and that at first: Aedan, W.O.D., Riordan's new job at a prestigious clinic, mutual acquaintances, and current news. When their food arrived, Duncan's prediction turned out to be correct: it was delicious, and they all went quiet for a while, devoting their attention to their meal.

The dessert was the best part, a light, fluffy mousse au chocolat, with just the faintest hint of rum teasing her palate. Isabela finished it with a blissful sigh, licking her lips in satisfaction at the inimitable taste. When she looked up she found both men watching her, Duncan smiling faintly, Riordan with a focused, tense expression on his handsome face. She briefly considered commenting on it, but then excused herself instead. _No need to rush things_.

When she returned from the powder room, Duncan and Riordan were talking animatedly about a project they'd worked on together in Central America a few years ago. Isabela leaned back in her seat, listening quietly, enjoying the opportunity to take a closer look at Riordan.

He really _was_ attractive. Tall, dark, and handsome didn't even begin to cover it. Not as bulky as Duncan, but still in good shape. _Lean_. He looked paler than in the pictures, more tired, but he had lovely eyes, grey and stormy. The dark stubble on his cheeks and the way he moved, slow and controlled, gave him an air of danger, of mystery. _Oh come on_ , she chided herself mentally. _You sound like a cheesy novel._

The expression on his face as he talked about his work was sombre, unsmiling, and she couldn't blame him. Their conversation was no doubt heavily edited in order not to spoil the evening, but even so, some of the scenes he described made her stomach churn. Riordan had seen firsthand just how bad things could get, and the experience hadn't left him untouched. Isabela didn't normally go for the serious types, but he was so passionate about making a difference that it impressed even her.

“It's our duty, Duncan!” His eyes were flashing fire, and he accompanied his words with insistent hand gestures. “We can't just accept things as they are. Our job is to protect people from their own ignorance.”

Isabela smiled to herself. No, he definitely wasn't boring, not at all. Besides, she had caught a few glimpses of a different, lighter side of him, when they had talked about their time at school, and she wanted to see more of that.

None of them was ready for the evening to end when they'd finished their dinner, and when Duncan invited Riordan to come along to the hotel for a drink after dinner, he agreed with a brief nod. Duncan didn't have the luxury of a suite this time, just a normal hotel room. Isabela sighed with regret. _I miss the whirlpool._ On the other hand, it was nice and cosy, and she wouldn't have to be the one to clean it up later. They made themselves comfortable, Riordan in a comfy chair, Isabela on the bed, while Duncan dug around in his suitcase

When he saw the brandy bottle Duncan produced from its depths, Riordan's face lit up. "How did you get your hands on this? I thought they didn't make it anymore."

"I have my sources." Duncan winked at him and filled a glass for each of them.

Isabela took a deep sip, letting the rich, golden liquid roll around in her mouth to savour the taste. It _was_ good stuff. She was about to take a second sip when Duncan sat down on the edge of the bed, right next to her, and she lost her balance. A generous amount of brandy spilled down her chin and neck, trickling down into the valley between her breasts.

Duncan's horrified groan was almost comical. "Quick. Don't waste it." In a flash he was at her side, putting down the glass and catching the spilled liquid with his lips, hot on her throat.

"Oh, for-" Isabela rolled her eyes and laughed, but at the same time, she felt a pleasant shiver at the feel of his tongue on her skin, lapping up the precious drops. "You're completely insane, you know that, right?"

Riordan was watching them from his place in the armchair, twirling his glass between his fingers, his expression unreadable.

"You're very quiet, Riordan." Isabela smiled at him, tilting her head to the side to allow Duncan better access to her neck. "Penny for your thoughts?"

A sudden smile transformed his face, making him look younger and less severe. "I'm thinking…" He got to his feet in a smooth motion and walked over to them, raising a hand to touch her cheek affectionately. "I'm thinking that Duncan is a very lucky man. And, that I probably ought to leave."

Isabela made a small moue of disappointment. "I don't know. I have a feeling we could all be lucky tonight."

Riordan inhaled sharply. "Is that an invitation, then?"

“If you're interested.” Isabela held her breath.

“Who wouldn't be?” Riordan caught Duncan's gaze in a mute question, and when the other man nodded, he leaned in, lightly brushing his lips over hers.

He smelled so very good, some expensive cologne, and underneath, his own unique scent. And, as she had guessed, he liked to take his time, savouring the kiss, displaying far less impetuousness than Duncan had.

Only when he'd thoroughly explored her mouth did he turn his attention to Duncan, resting his forehead against the other man's and smiling softly at him. "Remember Lilly?" His voice barely rose above a whisper.

"Sure." Duncan was smiling, too. "How could I forget?"

 _Oooooh, interesting_. "So, the two of you have done this before?" Isabela inquired, wiggling a little on Duncan's lap to remind him of her presence.

They exchanged a look, and Duncan chuckled, but it was Riordan who spoke first. "Not exactly, but…" He reached for the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them one by one while he was talking. "Duncan already mentioned that we shared a dorm room for a while, right? Well, there was this one time... We both had our girlfriends over for the evening. Lilly and Kay." He shrugged the shirt off with a grin, revealing a well-toned chest covered in fine, dark hair. "We had lots of fun together, didn't we, Duncan?"

"Oh, yes." Duncan took over, his eyes firmly fixed on Riordan's bare torso. "I won't go into detail, but there were several illegal substances involved." He cleared his throat. "Well, it got late and we were all in a very good mood, and Lilly, Riordan's girlfriend, suggested we should all have sex."

"What, all four of you together?" She hadn't expected _that_ , but she did her best to hide her surprise. "Well, why not? Quite the challenge to sort out where all the limbs go, but definitely worth it."

"No, not all of us." Riordan's eyes wrinkled in amusement as he reached for the zipper of his pants. "Just the two couples, but we got to watch each other. Lilly really was into that kind of thing."

"And… did you like it?" Isabela reached behind her to start working on Duncan's shirt.

"Of course we did." The low rumble of Duncan's laugh felt wonderful against her back. "Remember, that was a time before internet porn. I had never even _seen_ two people have sex, and being there with them, in that small room, with the sounds, the scent, the warmth of their bodies..." He shuddered and she could feel how much even the memory affected him. "It was incredibly hot."

"What happened then?" Isabela was more fascinated than she let on. "Once you all had sobered up again, I mean."

Riordan stepped out of his pants, getting rid of his socks at the same time. "Lilly wanted to do it again, and the next time we ended up swapping partners. Which wasn't bad either. I'd had my eye on Kay for quite a while."

"And then there was this one night, when the girls didn't show up." Duncan extended a hand to wrap it around Riordan's thigh, pulling him closer, close enough that he could run a questing finger along the sharp line of his hipbone. "And it was just the two of us. That was good, too."

"God, yes." Riordan was breathing hard, and when he bent down to kiss Duncan, Isabela could see his cock twitch under the fabric of his briefs.

 _Good, eh? Seems to me it was more than that_. Watching them kiss, hearing the impatient little noises Duncan made, seeing the flush of arousal spread over Riordan's pale skin, Isabela felt her own body respond with a heady rush of lust. Suddenly, she couldn't wait to have more, to see more of them, to feel their touch.

“Off,” she commanded, tugging on Duncan's shirt.

He obeyed with a breathless laugh, tearing his lips away from Riordan's just long enough to pull it over his head. His pants and briefs came off, too, not without some difficulty since she was still balanced on his knees, but somehow they managed. Riordan followed suit, and then they were both naked, naked and wholly relaxed about it, while she was still fully dressed between them.

The gleam in Riordan's eyes told her that he wasn't content with this state of affairs either. He let go of Duncan's mouth with a last, almost regretful tug at his lower lip that earned him a brief growl in response. Dropping to his knees before Isabela, he ran both hands up her thighs, pushing her dress up as far as it would go. She had kicked off her heels when they had entered the room, but she was still wearing stockings, and he moaned appreciatively at the sight.

Isabela had opted for a garterless model, as her skirt was so tight they would have shown, but she kind of regretted her decision now. In her experience, there was nothing quite like a garter belt to drive a man wild. Still, there was a very satisfying groan when Riordan's hands found her bare flesh at the top of the stockings. He started to slowly roll them down, placing hot kisses on every inch of skin he bared, and she rewarded him with a long, low moan.

“Duncan?” Riordan glanced up at his friend, and the heated look in his eyes made it clear that, for all his control, he was by no means unaffected. “Help me with her dress.”

Duncan murmured his assent, his deep, rolling voice sending waves of pleasure through her body. Isabela bent forward a little so he could reach the zipper. When he pulled it down, she shuddered briefly.

“Are you cold?” Duncan sounded concerned as he pressed his lips to the skin of her back while his fingers worked at the fastenings of her bra.

She shook her head. “No. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Another low rumble of a laugh, and then her dress came off, quickly followed by her lacy bra. Duncan was still holding her on his lap, and it was nice to be caught between their two warm bodies, Duncan's cock hard and insistent against the small of her back, Riordan on his knees before her, both hands on her breasts now.

“Gorgeous.” His voice was low and intense as he lifted both breasts in his palms, teasing both nipples simultaneously with the rough pads of his thumbs. “So incredibly gorgeous.”

By the time he took one hard nipple between his teeth, her panties were soaked, almost to the point of being uncomfortable. Isabela writhed under his touch, impatient to get her hands on him, to see him, feel him, have him. But, Duncan's arms around her held her firmly in place, allowing for very little movement.

Riordan didn’t seem in a hurry, but on noticing her impatience, he smiled a little. “Duncan.” The way he said the name was enough to provoke another low growl from the other man. “Feel.”

Taking Duncan's hand, he pulled it down between her legs, to the fabric clinging to her moist flesh. “Feel how much she wants you.”

Duncan made another incoherent noise, and before she could do anything to stop him, he had already torn the gauzy silk off. Not that she was sure she would have tried to stop him. She had rather liked this pair, true, but she didn't have it in her to care about that. It was far too exciting to feel his impatience as he shoved a thick finger deep inside her, rubbing his cock against her back in a blatant display of need.

Riordan's lips turned up in another smile. “Patience,” he muttered, and then his tongue found its way between her folds, and Isabela _screamed_.

It was beyond hot, to have them both there, focused on her pleasure, the delicious contrast between the rough, demanding thrusts of Duncan's fingers inside her, and the gentle but insistent lapping of Riordan's tongue against her core… She had never felt anything like it, and she spiralled upward faster than she could ever have imagined, begging in a voice she didn't even recognize as her own, until it was too much and she just _shattered_ in their arms, panting and whimpering.

They didn't leave her time to recover. Riordan pulled back, but only for a moment, while Duncan lifted her and lowered her down on his hard shaft, moaning happily at the feel of her, still pulsing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. As soon as he'd settled, Riordan's mouth was back, working patiently on flesh that should have been too sensitive, and for a moment she was torn between pleasure and pain, kept deliciously on the edge between both until pleasure won out and she delivered herself once again to their caresses.

The second time was even better, with Duncan's length filling her, providing a perfect counterpoint to the small, sharp spikes of pleasure Riordan sent through her, his hoarse groan as he finished inside her echoing her own cries.

Rolling off him, she stretched out on the bed, flanks trembling, her whole body vibrating with the force of her climax while Duncan discreetly got rid of the condom she'd never even noticed him putting on. She felt full, and warm, and utterly sated, but there was Riordan, waiting with that inhuman patience of his, still so _hard_ , and dear God, they weren't even remotely done with her yet.

“Need a break?” Riordan sounded solicitous, but there was a faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes, and it made her rally immediately.

“Never.” Sitting up, she reached for his cock. She had wanted that all evening, to touch him, to run her hands along that smooth length, to feel him shudder and go even harder.

His head flew back with a long sigh, his eyes rolling upward, and finally, _finally,_ she could see his control begin to fray, see it in the way the muscles in his stomach contracted, his hands clenched into fists, his legs began to tremble.

“Riordan.” She lay back a little, without letting go of him, spreading her legs wide, hitching them up as far as she could, because she wanted him as deep inside her as possible.

Duncan appeared at her side, tossing her a condom, which she swiftly rolled on, his gaze hurriedly shifting between Riordan's face and his cock.

“Riordan.” Isabela kept her voice low as she drew him between her legs, right where she wanted him. “Fuck me. Please.”

He made an odd, stifled noise, and then he was all the way inside her with a single, smooth thrust, impossibly deep, impossibly hard, and she almost came right away. And still he clung to a remnant of control, pulling out of her with torturous slowness, but she was done with slow and patient now, she wanted to see him break, and she dug her heels deep into his back, pushing him in roughly.

That did it. The world went away for a moment as he pounded inside her, hard and fast. She was only dimly aware of Duncan, right next to them on the bed, watching them avidly, because she was rushing headlong toward her third orgasm, and when it came, it was with enough force to make everything go black for a moment.

When she drifted back to consciousness, they were both at her side, panting and spent, looking completely wrecked, but she didn't even have it in her to tease them about it. She was far too wrung out herself. _What a night! I could get used to this._

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Zevran busied himself making coffee and digging through the cupboards for food while Alistair was gazing around his apartment with no small amount of curiosity. Well, it _was_ pretty spectacular, when one got to see it for the first time. The loft had been a lucky find, close to work and just about affordable, and Zevran loved everything about it: the wide, open space, the high ceilings, the large, airy windows with their view of the rooftops surrounding them.

Alistair ran his hand appreciatively over the fine leather of the couch, then turned to face him. “This place is amazing. But, don't you ever wish you could just close a door behind you?”

Zevran grinned. He was used to the question. “I live alone,” he pointed out. “Besides, there's always the bathroom. And it's handy, having everything in one place.”

As if drawn by invisible strings, both their heads turned to look at the bed in the corner, a simple futon covered in plain, white sheets. Alistair didn't reply, just ran two fingers along the neckline of his shirt, as if he was suddenly too hot.

Zevran turned back to his task, smiling to himself. It was nice to have Alistair here, nice to observe his reactions to the erotic photographs on the walls, nice to hear his low whistle of appreciation when he discovered the stereo system. He was glad he hadn't cancelled their date, even though a small voice at the back of his mind had been niggling at him for the past two days.

“Zev?” He was torn from his thoughts by a deep voice right behind him.

Swivelling around, he found himself almost chest to chest with Alistair, surrounded by his warmth. _He really does run hot, doesn't he?_

“Are you hungry?” he inquired, gesturing at the bag of peanuts on the counter. “If you want more than just a snack, I'm afraid-“

““Yes.” Alistair surprised him by stepping even closer. There was an expression of single-minded focus in his face, and his eyes were dark, the pupils almost drowning out the irises. “Yes, I'm hungry,” he repeated, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Without waiting for a reply, he put both hands on Zevran's hips, then slid them further back to cup his ass. Zevran just barely managed to avoid an undignified squeak of surprise as Alistair lifted him bodily, setting him down on the counter and stepping between his legs.

And then his lips found Zevran's, and they were kissing again, deeply and passionately, and yes, Alistair was _hungry_ for it, so eager that it was quite irresistible. Within moments, the world around them had shrunk to Alistair's hot mouth on his, Alistair's strong hands on his thighs, the insistent pressure of his hard cock against Zevran's own erection.

He was shaking with desire, but at the same time, he didn't want the kisses to stop. He wanted to drown in them, relish every single one and lose himself completely in the taste, the heat, the sweetness of it all.

It was funny, he dimly thought, how good it was just to kiss again. It had been a long time since he'd last devoted so much time to that activity. Usually, he would be headed for bed by this point, half naked, hands everywhere. But this was… nice. It wasn't even that Alistair was a particularly skilled kisser, though his enthusiasm was certainly contagious. No, it was the sheer pleasure of drawing things out, of enjoying every kiss for what it was, of playing with the anticipation of what was to come. Zevran made a mental note to himself. _Don't neglect kissing._ Next time he was with a new partner, he would-

But no, he didn't want to think of anyone else now. He was with Alistair now, Alistair who was trembling all over, his lips swollen and warm and delicious.

“Zev?” He sounded tentative. “Can I…”

Suddenly, his hand was on Zevran's crotch, shaky and uncertain, but he patiently worked on the buttons of his jeans until they gave way. Zevran helped by arching up his hips and sliding off the counter, pushing his clothes down far enough to allow Alistair access. He'd expected Alistair to take hold of him and stroke him, like he'd done before. So he was utterly surprised when, instead of that, he fell to his knees, glancing up at Zevran with a look that was equal parts seduction and nervousness.

“God, Alistair.” Seeing him down there, those perfect lips only inches from his straining cock, did things to Zevran that he couldn't put into words. Part of him wanted to grab Alistair, to drag him over to the bed, to-

Alistair bent forward and licked a long, measured stripe up all the way from his balls to the tip, and Zevran nearly lost it completely. Digging his fingers deep into Alistair's shoulders, he held on for dear life, groaning desperately.

Alistair gave him another shy, questioning look, but he was apparently content with the result of his efforts, because he set to it again, closing his lips around Zevran's cock, warm and wet and perfect. He didn't actually manage to take him very deep, just sucked lightly, his tongue lapping against skin that was suddenly too sensitive. Nothing special or spectacular, but for some reason it was so much better than it had ever been, and he- Zevran's vision went white for a moment, and he simply couldn't prevent his hips from snapping forward, making Alistair gag.

“Oh God, Alistair, I'm so sorry.” Zevran was mortified. “I… I really should have more control. Are you okay?”

Alistair nodded and pulled back, reluctantly letting go of him. “I'm fine.” There was a rough tremor in his voice, and it made Zevran forget about everything else.

“Please, _querido_ …” He hardly recognized his own voice, choked with need. Very carefully, he placed a hand on the back of Alistair’s head, threading his fingers through his damp hair, not quite trusting himself not to yank him too hard. “Please… I need…”

And then those lips were back, soft and sweet, and Zevran gave up all attempts at conscious thought as he felt the heat of Alistair's mouth surround him once more. Heat and pressure and suction, and the titillating flutter of a tongue, over and over, patient and persistent. Some part of him wanted to call a halt before it was too late, because there were so many other things he wanted to do. But, at the same time it felt so good, so mind-blowingly, blindingly good that he didn't want Alistair to stop, not now, not ever, not for a single moment-

He came with a shout, too overcome to warn Alistair, too far gone for any kind of refinement, shaking and babbling and helpless.

Alistair's palms were firm on the back of Zevran's thighs, and they held him as he slid down to the floor, until he was on his knees, too, kissing Alistair again, moaning when he tasted himself in his mouth. _So fucking perfect_.

It took him a moment to recover enough, but as soon as he could, Zevran got to his feet and took Alistair's hand, leading him over to the bed and getting rid of his remaining clothes in the process. “Your turn, _querido_.”

He took his time undressing Alistair, working him all over, with hands and lips and teeth and tongue. Using all his skill, he showed him sensitive spots he'd never known he possessed, did his best to keep him perched on the edge forever, to make him beg and cry and laugh. Alistair responded beautifully, moaning and writhing, the tension in his body coiling ever tighter until he finally surrendered. By the time Zevran sat back to admire his handiwork, Alistair was panting, his flanks trembling with exhaustion, his stomach covered in come. And the expression in his eyes…

Zevran's chest contracted so painfully he just barely stopped himself from crying out, and he had to look away, in a desperate effort to collect himself. But it was no use. This was scarily familiar. This was Rinna all over again, the intensity, the longing, the sheer _need_. The love.

“Zev?” Alistair sounded confused, and somehow very young. “Everything all right?”

“Sure.” He smiled mechanically, forcing himself to appear light and unaffected. “What about you?”

“I…” Alistair swallowed. “God, Zev, I had no idea…” He sat up, looking at Zevran earnestly. “That was incredible. _You_ are incredible.”

“That's pretty much what I was hoping to hear, thanks.” Again, he aimed for lightness, but at the same time his heart did that thing again, flipping over and beating so hard it hurt, and he had to get away, before he ended up saying something he'd regret, something far too serious, far too _involved_.

Giving himself a push, he got to his feet and walked over to the stereo. Maybe some music would help calm him down. But, before he had picked a track, Alistair interrupted him. “Say, Zev…”

“Mmhmmm?” Zevran didn't look up.

“Would you like to come over to my place on Christmas Day?” Alistair was talking quickly, as if he was afraid Zevran wouldn't let him finish. “I know you're not into all the holiday stuff, but we could just… hang out together, you know? Because I don't have anyone else, and I really like you, and…” He trailed off.

Zevran didn't reply. The pain was still there, and it was worse than before, burrowing through his chest like a parasite. _Damn it, what have I done?_ He was utterly mad at himself. Why hadn't he stopped this earlier? He’d known where they were headed, he'd known Alistair wanted more than sex, and yet he hadn't been able to keep away. Because it had all been so sweet, so gentle, so exhilarating. So wonderful.

It was too late to end this without pain now, but he knew what he had to do. Better now than later.

“Look, Alistair…” He turned back, unsmiling. “You're a really nice guy, and I had a lot of fun tonight, but you know that's all there is, right? I don't do family holidays, and I don't do romance.” He went on, ignoring the hurt on Alistair's face, ignoring the way he was gripping the sheets, hard enough to make tears appear in the fabric. “I was a fool to let this go on for as long as I did.” He closed his eyes, turning his face the other way while he waited for Alistair's reply.

But, there was none. He'd expected protests, recriminations, maybe even begging and crying. But Alistair didn't say a single word. He just reached for his clothes and quietly got dressed. His face was pale and stony, a slight tremble of his hands all that betrayed his agitation. When he reached the door, he looked at Zevran once more, as if giving him a last chance to change his mind. When Zevran remained quiet, he nodded once, briefly, and left.

The door fell shut behind him. He was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… Since quite a few of you expressed a… desire *cough* for more Duncan/Riordan, here's a super gratuitous smutty bonus chapter that does nothing whatsoever in terms of advancing the plot of this story.  
> You've been warned. ;)

Duncan was woken by the first rays of sunlight. Silently cursing the hotel’s inability to provide proper shutters, he rolled on his back, trying to take stock of the situation.

Isabela was gone; she must have left some time ago. No surprise, since she probably had to go to work today, but he still felt a vague tinge of disappointment. It would have been nice to wake up with her warm body next to his, her scent in his nostrils, the sound of her giggle as he tickled her awake.

On the bed next to him, Riordan was still fast asleep, stretched out on his back in a posture of sheer abandonment. Seeing him like this, chest bare, his legs tangled in the sheets, his face open and relaxed, it was all too easy to imagine that no time at all had passed since their days at medical school. No time at all since that night… Duncan sighed wistfully as the memory came back with full force.

_Riordan placed the receiver in the cradle with a disappointed sigh. “They can't make it tonight. Lilly ate something that didn't agree with her, and she feels like hell warmed over, she said. Kay will keep her company, but our plans are cancelled, I'm afraid._

_“Ah, damn it. Still, there's nothing to be done, I guess.” Duncan was just as unhappy with the news._

_They had both been awaiting the evening impatiently, imagining all the things they could do together. But, instead of getting naked with the girls, they got ready for the night, squeezing into their tiny bathroom, one after the other, to brush their teeth and put on pyjama pants. Neither of them was in the mood for finding something else to do, so an early night seemed a reasonable course of action._

_They had already settled into their narrow beds and turned out the lights when Duncan was struck by a sudden thought. “Say, Riordan… Do you think Lilly's really sick?”_

_“Why wouldn't she be?” Riordan sounded genuinely surprised._

_“Well, maybe they wanted some time without us.” Duncan chuckled. “Maybe the two of them are getting hot and heavy with each other right now.”_

_Riordan groaned. “Damn it, Duncan! As if I wasn't horny enough already! Now I'm imagining them and…” He breathed in sharply._

_Duncan couldn't blame him. He felt much the same. All the afternoon’s anticipation had left him just as worked up, and the mere thought of the girls kissing, touching, their beautiful bodies entwined, made it worse. He was fully hard before he knew it. He did his best to think of something else, to will his arousal to abate, but it was hopeless. Whenever he closed his eyes, the images returned, tormenting him, making him buzz all over with desire._

_Next to him in the dark, Riordan shifted restlessly. “Shit, Duncan, I can't sleep like this. Do you mind if I…?”_

_To his surprise, Duncan's heartbeat sped up considerably at the thought. “No, of course not. Although…” He had to swallow before he could continue. His throat felt dry as dust. “Can I… Can I watch?”_

_Another sharp inhale from Riordan. “You… Why… I mean, yes. If you want.”_

_With shaking hands, Duncan reached for the light switch. Riordan had already pulled his pants down. His hand was on his hard cock, stroking rhythmically, and it was… Duncan swallowed again. “Can I come closer?”_

_“Sure.” Riordan was watching him, too, his eyes gleaming with excitement, and his breath coming in quick, hard bursts._

_Trembling, Duncan settled on his bed between his legs, eyes firmly fixed on the movement of his right hand. Riordan had started off rough and fast, but now, with Duncan's eyes upon him, he slowed down, savouring each stroke of his hand, each swipe of his thumb over the weeping tip of his cock. It was incredibly hot, and Duncan couldn't take his eyes off him, not for a single moment._

_“Duncan.” Riordan's voice sounded strained. “Please. Let me see you, too.”_

_With a shaky nod, he pulled down his pants, exposing himself to Riordan's hungry gaze. He kept his hands well away from his cock, though. If he gave in to the temptation to touch himself now, there was no way he would last long enough to watch. And he wanted to watch, he needed to see Riordan come, he craved his friend’s release almost as intently as Riordan himself._

_Riordan's hand was moving faster and faster, squeezing, twisting, his whole body going taut as he neared his orgasm. When it finally hit him, it was gloriously beautiful, a long, heaving shudder as he spilled all over both their stomachs, moaning with abandon._

_Duncan was so close himself he_ ached _with it. Fortunately, Riordan didn't waste any time. Quickly and decisively, he wrapped his hand, still slick with his own come, around Duncan and stroked once, twice, then once more. It was more than enough. Duncan came so hard he had to brace himself against the bed’s headboard with both hands, so hard that he actually cried out loud, so hard he lost track of space and time for a moment._

_And afterwards-_

“Duncan?” Riordan's sleepy voice tore him out of his dream. “How come you're already awake?”

“Force of habit, I guess.” He smiled down at Riordan's scrunched-up face. “Isabela has already left, I'm afraid.”

“Pity.” Riordan stretched with a pleased sigh. “What a night, eh? Good to know we still can have fun together.”

His eyes wandered down to Duncan's groin, and widened slightly. Duncan's daydreaming hadn't left him unaffected, and he was almost fully hard again.

Riordan whistled softly through his teeth. “Again? I have to say, I'm impressed, old man.”

“I'm not _that_ old,” Duncan growled back. True, he was a year or two older than Riordan, but that would hardly make a difference, would it?

“It seems not.” Riordan grinned widely. “Join me in the shower?”

“Sure.” Duncan felt a pleasant shiver down his spine. Maybe this wasn’t over yet, despite Isabela’s abrupt departure.

When he got into the shower, there was a moment of uncertainty until Riordan stepped into the spray behind him, warm and firm, and embraced him with a laugh. “Need help?”

Actually, he was perfectly capable of soaping up himself, yet there was no denying he preferred Riordan's hands on him, slowly massaging his chest, his stomach, then sliding lower until his right hand closed around him, slick with soap. With a low moan, Duncan let his head sink back against Riordan’s shoulder.

“Damn it, Riordan.” He thrust involuntarily into the other man’s hand, whining when Riordan responded with a quick twist of his wrist. “How do you- What have you been up to in the last twenty years?”

Riordan’s voice was rough and hoarse against his ear. “Well, I don't know about you, but that night we spent together, back then…” His grip tightened, and his other hand sneaked between Duncan's legs from behind to play with his balls. “It was quite the eye-opener for me. Ever since then I've known that I like men.”

“And women,” Duncan threw in, though he found it increasingly hard to be articulate.

“And women,” Riordan confirmed, his hand teasing further back. "And I've had my fair share of both."

Duncan didn't even have time to tense up before a soap-slicked finger slid inside him, probing and exploring, adding a whole new layer of sensation. He cursed violently, bucking into Riordan's hand. Riordan laughed giddily, adding a second finger, applying even more pressure, and it was- Duncan gave up on finding words for it, just let his body take over, let Riordan guide his movements. Which was the right decision, obviously, since Riordan knew exactly what he wanted, knew when he needed it faster, harder, _more,_ until he simply couldn't take it anymore and came with a last, almost desperate jerk of his hips.

Riordan slid both hands up to his chest to hold him tightly, murmuring soothing words in his ear as the warm water washed away the mess on his stomach. Duncan felt too dazed to say anything before they'd made their way out of the shower and dried off, but as soon as he could speak again, he gestured at Riordan's cock, heavy and hard against his thigh.

“What about you?”

Riordan smiled and lay back on the bed without any trace of embarrassment. “Come here.”

There was a certain sharpness in his tone, making it clear this was a command, not a request, and Duncan responded immediately to it. It had always turned him on when Riordan ordered him around, even back when they'd been with the girls. Now, it seemed doubly appropriate, since Riordan was clearly far more at home with this scenario than he was.

“What do you want me to do?” He joined Riordan on the bed, tracing the muscles in his stomach, unable to resist touching him.

“What I want…” Riordan’s eyes grew impossibly dark. “What I _really_ want, Duncan, is for you to lie back and let me fuck you, deep and slow.” He didn't miss the glimpse of anxiety on Duncan's features, though. “Hey, don't worry. I know what I'm doing, and I’d make it good for you, so good you would beg me never to stop.”

Duncan shivered involuntarily at the absolute certainty in Riordan's tone.

“However…” Riordan shrugged and made a face. “In the absence of proper lubrication and in view of the fact that we ran out of condoms sometime last night, I guess I'll have to settle for your hands. Or your mouth,” he added with a sly look at Duncan.

Duncan hesitated only for a heartbeat. Once again, a vivid memory flashed before his inner eye: Riordan, stroking himself furiously, so close to coming. Back then, he'd been sorely tempted to touch him, to taste him, but he hadn't dared. He had no such scruples now, even if he was only marginally more experienced.

“How about both?” he suggested, as casually as he could, and was rewarded with a rough gasp from Riordan.

“I take it that’s a yes?” Arranging himself with his head on Riordan's thigh, he took him carefully between his lips, just the tip of his cock, while his hand closed around the shaft.

Riordan moaned happily, and he took it as encouragement, continuing what he was doing, sucking harder and adding more pressure when Riordan arched hungrily into his mouth. He mostly went by instinct, and by what he would have enjoyed himself, and it seemed to work fine. Riordan was getting incoherent already, begging for more, his hand clenching tight in Duncan's hair. He held on for as long as he could, though, and when he finally came, Duncan felt it just in time to pull back and avoid swallowing. He wasn't going there, at least not yet. Besides, it was actually hot to _see_ Riordan come, to watch him spurt all over his chest and stomach. He felt a fierce rush of pride at seeing his friend so wrecked and sated.

Riordan's eyes were half-closed, and he was panting heavily. “Damn, that was amazing. Thank you.”

Duncan was about to answer when his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He reached for it with a frown that turned into a smile when he read the brief message. “It's from Isabela. She says thank you for last night. And she says we can get back to her any time for a new date, all three of us, with more time to spare. What do you think?”

Riordan laughed breathlessly. “God, yes. Whenever you can make it.” His eyes flashed with passion as he glanced up at Duncan. “None of my dreams ever were this good.”


	14. Chapter 14

Isabela yawned, blinking at the lines of text on her screen without a clue what they meant. Gods, she was tired. It was a massive effort just to keep her eyes open.

But, she didn't regret a thing. Not when she was still pleasantly sore, tingling all over from last night’s activities; not with the memory of Duncan's kisses and Riordan's caresses still fresh on her mind. Last night had been hot and sweet and perfect, and it had been a struggle to tear herself away from them before dawn. In an ideal world, she'd have had those two all to herself for a whole day. _No. Make that a whole weekend._ A whole weekend in the company of two men who knew how to treat a lady right... Ah well, a girl could dream.

With a wistful sigh, she turned back to work. Not for the first time she wished she could just have taken the day off. But, for all his relaxed attitude, Aedan expected people to pull their weight, and it wasn't Christmas yet. Another yawn. _Coffee_. She needed coffee.

Walking past Oghren’s cubicle, Isabela made a face at the smell rising from behind the partition. _He's eating that instant noodle crap straight from the packet again. Ugh._ You could always tell when you got close to the part of the office space where the programmers had their lair. If you were lucky, it was just a particularly obnoxious aftershave, but it always smelled of _man_ there. Not that she necessarily objected to that. It depended on the man in question, really. Now, Riordan, for example-

She stopped in her tracks as she approached the kitchen and heard voices coming from the open door.

“I'm going to kill that bastard. Damn it, I should have known this would happen.” Leliana, if she wasn't mistaken, sounding furious.

“Please, Lel, let it go. He never pretended to love me. He never said anything to lead me on.” That was Alistair, sounding surprisingly calm. No, too calm, almost apathetic. _Shit_. “It was my own fault for being stupid enough to think-" Alistair’s voice broke off, sounding choked.

Isabela had heard enough. Without hesitation, she marched over to Zevran's desk. He ducked behind his screen when he saw her approach, as if he wanted to hide. _Healthy instincts._ Isabela felt her lips set in a grim line. Grabbing Zevran's wrist, she pulled him out of his chair and dragged him off toward the little conference room next to Aedan’s office, one of the few places where they would not be overheard. "We need to talk."

"We're at work, Bela." Zevran sounded irritable, but he didn't really make an effort to stop her. "We can't just disappear for a private chat."

"Oh yes, we can," she threw back over her shoulder, without slowing down. "I'll clear it with Aedan, if that's what worries you. But you're not getting out of this without an explanation."

Dragging him inside, she pushed him towards a chair, letting the door fall shut behind them. "What did you do to him?"

Zevran slumped into the chair, sighing wearily. He didn't bother asking who she was talking about. "What I should have done right away. I told him it was just a bit of fun and that we should end it before it got serious."

Isabela was speechless for a moment, but she recovered quickly. "Only it had already gotten serious, hadn't it?"

She had to prod Zevran with her foot before he answered. "Yes. And there's no need to kick me. I'm perfectly aware that it wasn't one of my finer moments."

"Damn right, it wasn't." Isabela was fuming inside. "What on Earth possessed you to-"

"Isabela!" Zevran raised his head, and the look in his eyes cut off her rant effectively.

_Shit. He's hurting, too. Men! Leave it to them to mess up something that's going perfectly fine._ She shook her head. "Why?"

Again, he took his time to answer. "I… I wouldn't be good for him. I'm not good for anyone. The people I love get hurt."

"Do they, now?" _Gods, such drama!_ Isabela found it hard to remain serious. And she suddenly felt very old. "And just how do you know that? How many hearts have you broken? What happened to make you believe karma has it in for you, personally?"

"This isn't funny!" Zevran glared at her. "And I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, tough luck." She placed herself firmly between him and the door. "You're not getting out of here before you tell me the whole sad story."

Zevran groaned in exasperation. "Look, it was a long time ago, and-"

"The whole story!" she insisted, and he sighed.

"There was this girl…" he began, rubbing his eyes wearily.

"Did she have a name?" Isabela wasn't in the mood for mercy.

"Yes. Rinna." Zevran bit his lip, looking younger and more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him. "She… she was lovely, and I adored her. But my best friend at the time, Tally…” He laughed once, without a trace of humour. “He was full of advice. He said I shouldn't just keep telling Rinna how much I loved her. He claimed she would get bored and lose interest, and that it was better to keep her guessing, to play hard to get. So I did what he told me. I went out with others, told her she had to up her game. She…" Zevran clearly wasn't proud of the part he'd played. "She was unhappy, cried a lot, but I didn't listen."

"And then?" Isabela prompted. "That's not all, is it?"

"No, it isn't." Zevran threw her a dark look. "One evening, I went to see her and found her in bed with Tally."

"What an asshole." Isabela had actually seen this coming.

Zevran nodded. “I was livid. We shouted at each other, all three of us, screaming insults and accusations. And then she ran off into the night, just like that. I tried to follow her, but Tally held me back, told me to let her cool off. Said she'd be back soon enough, and we could sort it out.” His face closed up, like a shuttered window. "Only she never came back. There was an accident, and-” He broke off.

Isabela flinched internally. This was a lot worse than she'd thought. She'd expected rejected love, betrayal, hurt feelings, but not outright tragedy. Still, wallowing in guilt wouldn't help, neither him nor the poor girl. "That’s all very sad, but it was hardly your fault," she pointed out. "From the sound of it, you were all just incredibly young and stupid."

"That's one way of looking at it." Zevran's cool mask back was in place. "Anyway, I can't have a thing like that happen again."

Isabela sighed deeply. "Not going to argue. But, you know, I don't really get your logic here. The way I see it, you listened to bad advice, you did something stupid, and things went horribly wrong. Shit happens. As long as you pick your friends with more care in the future, you should be fine." She frowned. "And I certainly don't see why you would break up with Alistair because of this."

"No?" Zevran's laugh was bitter. "Don’t you see? Clearly I'm bad news for people who fall in love with me. Or for people I love." He rose, trying to shoulder past her. "Well, at least I never told him."

"There was no need to say it, you idiot." Isabela grabbed his sleeve, her anger rising again. "It was fucking obvious to anyone who saw you."

Zevran glared at her hand. "Look, I'm telling you, I've learned my lesson. I'll be more careful next time and keep my distance. It won't happen again.”

"Wrong lesson." Isabela knew she couldn't keep him there much longer, not without physically restraining him. "You didn't hurt Rinna because you loved her, Zevran. You hurt her because you didn't trust her enough. If you love Alistair, there's really no reason-"

"Whatever." Zevran didn't seem to hear what she was saying. "Alistair is a nice guy. It's good that I ended it. If I had let it go on any longer, we'd just have ended up hurting each other even more."

Isabela loosened her grip, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. “So, you’re really just scared.”

Zevran's head flew up at her words. “Scared?” He huffed contemptuously. “Honestly, Isabela, that's rich, coming from you. I thought you, of all people, would understand. It's not as if _you_ let yourself get tied down.”

Isabela just barely bit back an impatient sigh. “Not the same thing at all, sweetheart.” When Zevran made a small, incredulous noise, she elaborated. “I do understand having fun without getting attached. If you know what you're doing, why not? It's much easier on everyone involved. No heartbreak, no jealousy, no scenes. Works fine, as long as everybody is on the same page. However…”

She raised a hand to stop him from interrupting. “What _you’re_ doing here, is something else altogether. Here you are, lucky enough to meet someone special, someone you can fall in love with, and on top of that, they're in love with _you_ , too. And then you run away from it, because you can't bear the thought that you might get hurt?” She shook her head. “I'm sorry, honey, but that's just plain old cowardice."

"I'm not afraid of getting hurt." Zevran snapped back at her, his eyes flashing angrily. "If anything-"

"You're afraid of hurting him, I know." Isabela rolled her eyes. "Yeah. So what? Everyone gets hurt. People get over it, trust me on that. Most of them survive.”

Zevran’s pained grimace told her that she'd gone a little too far on that last one, and she shrugged apologetically. "Well, they do."

“So you're saying… what?” He raised a sceptical eyebrow. “That I should talk to Alistair? Beg him to take me back?”

“I'm telling you not to waste a perfectly good chance at happiness.” Isabela shrugged. “How you go about getting him back, is your business.”

Zevran shook his head. “Even if I wanted to, it would probably be too late.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Isabela was getting fed up with his morose attitude. “You'll never know unless you try.” She made for the door, but on impulse, she turned around at the last moment and winked at Zevran. “He will be here on Christmas Eve, doing holiday duty. _If_ you should happen to be interested.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

The office was quiet and dark, even though it was only early afternoon. Most of the lights were turned off, and the sky outside was so overcast that very little sunlight made it through the windows. The few others who had work to do on Christmas Eve had disappeared shortly before noon. Alistair knew he should be leaving, too. He needed to be on call in case of an emergency, but Aedan wouldn't expect him to hang around till nightfall.

Yet, he was reluctant to leave. On a day like this, the office felt more like home than his own apartment. At least here he had a Christmas tree, a small potted one that Aedan had put up at the beginning of December and Leliana had decorated. At least here he would know what to do with himself, while everyone else was celebrating with their friends and family. Whereas at home…

He swallowed hard. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear Zevran's voice, cold and distant. _I was a fool to let this go on as long as I did._ Yes. And _he_ had been a fool to imagine that Zevran could really be interested in him. What did Alistair have to offer that could tempt him into settling down? A guy like Zevran could have anyone he wanted. He was probably out there right now, in some bar, flirting and laughing, enjoying the admiring looks. There was no reason for him to hook up with a needy, boring- _Enough_.

Sighing deeply, he returned his attention to the screen before him. Morrigan had called him two days ago about a complicated problem with her accounting software, and he still hadn't figured out how to fix it. He'd consulted several online forums about it, but so far, to no avail. Ah, well. At least it was a challenge. Reaching for his mug of tea, he took a deep draught, trying to concentrate. Damn it, why was this so hard? It wasn't as if there was anybody here to distract him…

A sudden noise behind him made him swivel around in his chair. "Who's there?" His voice sounded hollow and squeaky, and he cleared his throat in an attempt to sound more gruff and manly.

"Hey." Zevran hadn't taken off his coat, and his hair was covered in fine snow crystals. He looked pale, and lonely, and dejected.

"Zevran." Alistair wasn't quite sure what to say. "I didn't expect-"

To his surprise, Zevran seemed nervous, too. "Look, I… _Brasca_ , this is harder than I thought. I've come to apologize."

"You don't have to-" Alistair's reply was automatic, but Zevran interrupted him with an impatient huff.

"Yes, I do. I've been an idiot." He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "I am so sorry, Alistair. I was… scared and panicked and I said stupid things. I thought I had to end this for your sake, and I ended up hurting you even more. I…"

"Please, Zevran." Alistair felt hot and uncomfortable. "You don't need to explain." _Lord knows, I understand panic._

"But, I do!" Zevran closed his eyes for a moment, looking pained. "Look, you're not the only one who's afraid of messing up. I made some bad calls a few years ago, and people got hurt. I will tell you all about it, if you wish. Not now, but maybe- Still, that's no excuse. I shouldn't have-" He took a deep breath. "I don't know if you can forgive me, but if you can, I'd like to go back to where we started." Shrugging off his coat, he glanced up at Alistair with a hopeful look in his eyes.

Alistair nearly gulped in surprise. Zevran had- He couldn't believe his eyes.

Zevran had put on the Sexy Santa costume again. A rather more restrained version, with long, tight leggings instead of hot pants, and without the elf ears, but he still looked hot as hell. A familiar heat spread in his groin. Yup, his body was definitely on board with this idea. He wasn't going to listen to his body, though. Even Alistair knew enough to realize that this was a bad idea. Getting back together, just because he wanted Zevran so badly he could barely see straight; that kind of reasoning could only end in more pain.

Still, there was something more to this, and seeing the costume again tonight touched something else, deep inside him. This wasn't just Zevran doing his best to seduce a willing victim. There had been genuine regret in his voice, and Alistair didn't doubt that he was sincere about wanting to start over. But, would that be enough?

"It's not about forgiving. I'm not mad at you, not anymore." Alistair was struggling to find the right words, but this was important. "It's…"

Zevran didn't answer, didn't push him, just gestured for him to go on, and he did his best to speak calmly. "I… I do want to be with you, Zevran, I really do. But, we're so different. You're… You're amazing and hot and confident. You blow my mind. I am shy and I say stupid things, and I blush a lot. And I…" God, this was hard. "I really don't know what I'm doing in bed, and you're used to all kinds of exciting and wild stuff. You probably want a lot more than we've done so far, and I don't know if I can ever-" He broke off. "See? Here I am, blushing like a school boy. I'm just not sure I can ever be what you want."

A moment of stunned silence followed his monologue. _So, that's it. Now you've ruined your last chance._ Yet, when he dared look at Zevran again, there was no trace of anger in the other man's face, just an odd, focussed expression that he couldn't place.

"What I want…" Zevran sounded almost thoughtful. "No, _querido_ , you can't be what I want."

Alistair stared at the floor, too dejected for words. _This has to be the worst Christmas ever!_ Not that he could recall many good ones. He was trying to fight back the tears rising to his eyes, when he felt a cool finger on his cheek, tracing his jaw and lifting his chin, so he had to look Zevran in the eye again.

"You can't be," Zevran repeated, and he was really close now, leaning over Alistair, almost straddling him. "Because I want far too much." His voice was burning with intensity. "I want your smile. I want your stupid jokes, and your hang-ups and your fears and worries. I want your body, too, because you're too gorgeous for words."

Zevran laughed, a rough, throaty laugh that did interesting things to Alistair's insides. "God, Alistair. You're right that I want more. I enjoy sex, _querido,_ and I want to show you _everything_ I enjoy. I want to make love to you. I want your hands and lips and tongue on every part of me."

Alistair was blushing _again,_ though how this could be, when all of his blood was gathering elsewhere, was anybody's guess.

But, Zevran wasn't finished, far from it. "The things I've dreamed of… I want you so deep inside me I can taste you. I want to hear your voice screaming my name, whimpering as I make you come over and over." He sounded almost feverish now. "I want all kinds of crazy things. I want you here, in the office, bent over a desk. I want you in my bed, on the floor, in my car, on the roof, everywhere. I want to tie you down and have my way with you for _hours_ , until you're hoarse from begging. I want to watch you fuck Isabela, and I want to take you, with her looking on. I want things you can't even imagine."

A long, low whine escaped Alistair's lips at those words. Listening to Zevran had made him hard as a rock, dizzy with desire, but at the same time, he was beginning to be scared again. He couldn't see how-

Zevran laughed softly, brushing the lightest of kisses against his lips. "I want all of this, Alistair, but I'm a big boy. I know we can't always get what we want." And now he actually _was_ in Alistair's lap, grinding slowly against him, because of course he was hard, too, and he felt so _good_. "I know I can't expect these things from you, at least not right away, and maybe never. So, I'll just be happy to get what I want most, no? And that's _you_." Another kiss, soft and almost teasing. "You, and whatever you're ready to give. And I'll promise to do all in my power to make you just as happy in return."

"Zev…" Alistair didn't know what to reply. He was trembling all over.

"Shhh." Zevran placed a gentle finger on his lips. "No more talking." A grin spread over his face as he pulled Alistair's hand gently down to the waistband of his pants. "Time to unwrap your present now." His tone was teasing, but his eyes were dark and serious. "I am yours." 

Their lips met in another kiss, deep and hungry this time. Alistair's head was suddenly buzzing with happiness. _Not such a bad Christmas after all._

They kept kissing and touching, and he was rapidly losing all ability to think coherently, what with Zevran's hot lips nipping at his, Zevran's scent driving him mad, Zevran's smooth, silky skin everywhere. Eagerly, he worked his hand under the thin red satin, impatient to get the silly costume out of the way.

It was at this moment that he remembered a line from an old story someone had told him years ago, and he almost laughed out loud, because it seemed so very fitting and yet so naughty, given the circumstances.

_Yes, Alistair, there is a Santa Claus._

* The end *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the CMDA Secret Santa Exchange, as a present for ShebasDawn. Hugs and thanks to suilven for betaing this for me.  
> The wonderful olivegbg made lovely pictures of Duncan and Riordan in suits, to be found here: http://olivegbg.deviantart.com/art/I-don-t-often-510792088 and http://olivegbg.deviantart.com/art/Even-less-frequent-512120511. I simply adore them!


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